28252	----	VIOLIN MAKING. PRINTED BY J. H. LAVENDER AND CO., 3, GREEN TERRACE, ROSEBERY AVENUE, LONDON, E.C. [Frontispiece: Walter H. Mayson] _"THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. IX._ VIOLIN MAKING BY WALTER H. MAYSON. WITH THIRTY-ONE ILLUSTRATIONS. SECOND EDITION. London: "THE STRAD" OFFICE, 3, GREEN TERRACE, ROSEBERY AVENUE, E.C. J. LENG & CO., 186, FLEET STREET, E.C. New York: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS, 153-157, FIFTH AVENUE. 1909. CONTENTS. PAGE INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 CHAPTER I. SELECTION OF WOOD . . . . . . . . . . 7 CHAPTER II. THE BACK . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 CHAPTER III. PURFLING . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 CHAPTER IV. BENDING THE PURFLING . . . . . . . . . 33 CHAPTER V. MODELLING THE BACK . . . . . . . . . . 36 CHAPTER VI. WORKING OUT THE BACK . . . . . . . . . 41 CHAPTER VII. THE BELLY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46 CHAPTER VIII. THICKNESSES OF THE BELLY . . . . . . . 51 CHAPTER IX. THE SOUNDHOLES . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 CHAPTER X. THE BASS BAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 CHAPTER XI. THE RIBS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 CHAPTER XII. FIXING RIBS, ETC. . . . . . . . . . . 71 CHAPTER XIII. FIXING THE BELLY . . . . . . . . . . . 75 CHAPTER XIV. THE SCROLL . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78 CHAPTER XV. FIXING NECK, FINGERBOARD, ETC. . . . . 82 CHAPTER XVI. OF VARNISH AND VARNISHING . . . . . . 88 CHAPTER XVII. FITTING UP FOR USE . . . . . . . . . . 95 CHAPTER XVIII. CONCLUSION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 PREFACE. I do not like Prefaces. They remind me somewhat of awaiting dinner in a drawing-room after a long walk in wintry weather. It is one thing to get there an occasional whiff of viands cooking in the basement of the house, and quite another to feel the same accentuate your gnawings of hunger. Therefore, did I touch on motives for writing this book, or sketch outlines of heads of matters to follow in detail, I should engage little or no attention, so shall simply refer you who may read this preface, which is only a fraud, to the matter embodied in the following pages, for which, at least, I claim Honesty. WALTER H. MAYSON. 62, OXFORD STREET, C.-ON-M., MANCHESTER. The great success of the previous edition, and the numerous letters sent in praise of "VIOLIN MAKING," prompts me (the author's son) to take the opportunity of saying a few words, and to thank the public for their appreciation of the work. I have received many communications (several from abroad) from enthusiasts, bestowing the warmest praise on the writer as a Maker and an Author; and all are unanimous in declaring that the simple and explicit style of the work has enabled them to readily grasp the difficulties pertaining to the Violin as a work of Art. These correspondents (who are quite strangers to me) have also greatly commended the high class appearance of the volume, particularly the excellence of the fine illustrations. Such expressions of approval would have been gratifying to the late W. H. MAYSON, who, as the maker of over 800 instruments, had attained complete mastery over his work. Therefore the reader can have every confidence in faithfully following all his methods and strictly adhering to every detail set forth in this volume. STANSFIELD MAYSON. 48, OXFORD ROAD, MANCHESTER, _June, 1909_. INTRODUCTION. Many admirable works on this interesting subject have appeared in several languages, but, to my mind, in a form too sternly technical, cold, if I may be allowed--the writers barely in touch with the anxious youth or man, who, as amateur, yearns to get at that knowledge of correct construction without which he scarce may hope to become a professional violin maker, some notable instances to the contrary, all the same. I hold simplicity to be the very essence of the conveyance of matter from mind to mind, as in words; from mind to eye, as by pencil, brush, or chisel; palpable or otherwise, the impression intended should be beyond doubt, and that this end may be secured, mystification by high flown figures of rhetoric, or false drawing, or sculpture out of line or proportion, must at the outset of all work, art work above all, be sternly trodden under foot, and the solid and truthful experience of ripe years offered with the same eagerness to impart information as it is awaited by the student. If you spend ten minutes in _telling_ a man what form an oval assumes, when you can, by drawing it for him on a blackboard, present it before his eye in one minute, and more to the purpose, you not only waste your own time but his also, and commit a breach of trust, in that you mislead and mystify when it was your duty to faithfully guide and teach in all sincerity and simplicity. Therefore I propose, in the following pages, to adopt an entirely different treatment from any work I have had the honour of studying on the construction of the violin; writing as though orally addressing the students, or those anxious to become students, of the whole world--a vast semicircle of bright faced, intelligent creatures before me, following eagerly every movement of the numerous tools I use in the extremely delicate manipulations of the instrument as it almost imperceptibly assumes that form so noble and so beloved, and almost devouring the, I hope, lucid explanations, which, from time to time, I may think it necessary to make, and which will appear as letterpress, the illustrations speaking for themselves as the work progresses. This little thing that I am about to make, this shell of scarce sixteen ounces in weight, constructed of about eighty pieces of wood, and united by glue as one complete whole; this, that is a mighty factor, where mirth, and mirth only, is to the fore, in its embodiment; this, that draws from the soul the tear which has long yearned for an outlet of intense sympathy such as it now finds; this, that beautifies as it ennobles to the pinnacle of sublimity all music, even as it takes it by the hand, guides and cements it. What is the origin of this violin or fiddle, and to what country does the honour belong? To this day its origin, as a violin, is a contested point, and in my opinion will so remain; that is to say, how it worked its way, so to speak, out of now obsolete instruments, into what it is (for it was certainly a growth, not a complete conception), by whom it was so worked, and where--these points, aggravating points, if you will, seeing there is nothing of clearness around them, had better be left by you where they are; for, when Germany and Italy are supposed strong claimants, and assert a right not borne out by fact, according as I read the so-called evidence, it were futile to enter into discussion destined to have no satisfactory result. But, though we cannot give this thing a "local habitation," we _can_ give it a name, aye, and a name destined to live as long as lips move to pronounce it. And we can make it noble, too, of exquisite shape and colour, possessing a voice capable of we know not what compass and expression; just as we can turn it out by the thousand, degrading the name of art to which it has the impudence to lay claim, on every feature of its brazen face stamped that nationality which, so far from seeking, it in vain tries to get rid of. If in the progress of these lectures I touch on cause and effect in relation to acoustics, my remarks will be merely superficial, sufficient for my purpose, but not for him who wishes fully to master this absorbing doctrine, which he will find most useful should his purpose be to try experiments in relation to tone. As to giving diagrams of supposed eccentric or concentrated curves relative to the vibration of the back or belly of the violin, or to the motions of the air waves, rapid or slow, that I do not intend to do; others have done that, with what benefit to their work or their supposed pupils we may probably ascertain later should more be added on the subject. Therefore, gentlemen, if it be your strong, stern desire to sit out these somewhat prolonged lectures, whilst I endeavour to make for you, step by step, a true work of art, according to my conception and in strict accordance with my deeply thought-out principles, and with such tools as I find most simple and most suitable for the work I have to do, then do so, and I shall feel highly honoured and very proud; but, if a lighter, more trivial creation will, or would satisfy your (craving I will not call it, that suggests pertinacity, a great end being in view), say, passing fancy, then I would rather see vacant the place occupied by you, as in such an one I should take no interest whilst speaking or working, just as that one would appear of too shallow a nature to absorb lasting benefit from what was said or done by me. In concluding this introduction to a subject which I hold to be of much moment as the leading instrument, never to be replaced by another, let me beg of you to abandon a half-hearted consideration of its adoption in actual work later on, unless you be prepared to suffer for this fine art, a member of the body of which it is your present thought to become; for, be assured, there _will_ be suffering, which will dog your progress; aye, and the greater your talent, so much more will be jealousy of it, from those, at least, so on the alert to decry that which they cannot create; so much more will be contumely; so much more will be innuendoes which _can_ not be met openly, as they certainly _will_ not be in the slimy words and manner of utterance of bitter heartlessness, that is to say, if you be made of that stuff which presents to the world an artist, who is nothing if he be not noble. Contumely, jealousy, suffering, but not necessarily failure therefrom, despite an occasional reverse, hard to bear; nay, the feeling that there is something good in you, and worthy of acknowledgment and acceptance by the world later on, will spur you to greater exertion, and act as a mantle beneath which you may shelter from the cold shower hurled by those so prone to drown or starve that which, not feeling themselves, they are determined shall neither spring from nor be passed to the credit of others--enthusiasm. VIOLIN MAKING CHAPTER I. SELECTION OF WOOD. Many persons of good, practical ability, and moderately versed in the laws of acoustics, with an eye for form, and not deficient in a certain conception of art _as_ art; who have the instinct to check any approach to vulgarity, and work on lines, curves and thicknesses, more or less true, elegant, and the best for producing fine tone, have seen, and will yet again see, their efforts of small avail, cast aside, never to assume even mediocre rank in the stern array of violins of modern make, much less of those of ancient Italy, merely because the wood chosen for the instrument made is of an inferior, probably worthless character, which would have been employed to much more purpose had it been used in the construction of a windmill, or the shaft of a mine. That is to say, if, as I presume and premise, the first germ in the conception of construction of the instrument be _tone_, as most assuredly tone it ought to be, not to the detriment of appearance, or to its subjugation as an art work, but as an adjunct or accessory of such importance that it is apparent it must imperatively assume pre-eminence; just as we forget the plain box of the Æolian harp the moment the strings are struck by the passing gale into the most exquisite chords; as, on the contrary, do we seem to wish for no song from the tropical bird of magnificent plumage, and express no surprise that none comes from it. I may put this more plainly as I proceed, and in more homely words. What I want to lay before you now, and must _insist_ upon, is, that you seek for tone, tone before all. Tone you must get at all cost; and to get it, you must have as choice wood as ever can be procured, and fashion it into a singing shell, so that from it pure music may be evolved. Then you must get this choice wood, but how? Now, the word "choice" presupposes variety from which to select, as I select or choose so-and-so, which is my choice. But I use the word in another way, on the face of it bearing the same significance, but not quite so. I say it is _fine_, of superb quality for my purpose, which is the emission of the grandest tone possible, rapid, strong and sonorous, from two plates of wood, becoming, if they possess these attributes, choice to me. We will consider the back wood first. I have thirty pieces from which to take one, which shall act in conjunction with the belly, to be selected later on. Some are plain, pear tree, in fact; others are also plain (I mean as regards figure, or flames, as the Germans say), and of sycamore, others are of maple. I do not select a handsome one for its beauty, just as surely as I do not reject an ordinary one for its plainness. This will show you at once that I am seeking for that which, to my mind, will yield me the finest tone. Well, but we must determine this before we go farther, and in the rough, the initial stage of the wood, supposed to be old, and fit for the under table of the instrument about to be made. I will try this one of maple--moderately handsome, looking old, but, I fear, not quite honest, as it is too heavy for its bulk. I take the half of it (it being in two parts) and about one third from the top, having the thick edge, or that to which, later on, I join the other thick edge, close to my left ear, my left first finger and thumb grasping it there so as just to free the body for vibration, I strike it near the lower part of the thin side rapidly, with the large joint of the first finger of my right hand. With what result? That of strengthening, almost confirming, my suspicion of its honesty. For I find a lack of energy, of resonance, and of that quality to which I apply the word sympathy. It is crude, it is dull, and it will _not_ do for my purpose. Well, but as so many go by what so many advocate and so many do, why not try it by placing the plate in this vice, and applying a well rosined bow to draw forth its sonority, etc., etc.? I will do so. I fear many of you, even just in front of me, will scarce gather much from the thin, miserable stuff which the wood says is its voice, and which its vendors assert to be old, well dried, and that for which it was bought. And I pity, indeed, those receding into the misty background, for nought of this squeak will they hear, and well for them! But as this second test is condemnatory and more and more convinces me of the unworthiness of the wood for a violin of high class (or of any violin destined to live), let me put it to a still more searching one, in fact, to two, neither of which, I venture to assert, will it bear. I clamp it to the bench and proceed to cut with a gouge several pieces from the _surface_ of an area of about three inches, close to the thick edge. These I lay aside as No. 1. Deeper, but still from the same area, more, as No. 2. Deeper, but not now as deep as before, for an obvious reason, according to my theory, which is my last heap and No. 3. Now, gentlemen, will you pass round this handful. No. 1, what is there about it? Really, an acid smell! and No. 2, the same, but less pungent; No. 3, less still! Well, there you have absolute proof of roguery, which, if it were lacking in strength, would be borne out by the diminution of the lying brown colour towards the centre of the wood, that colour, not of age, but of fraud, which, named acid, affects the surface more than the interior, and which the novice gloats over as old and pure as God's mountains! Well, but in addition to these two farther tests of smell and colour--making wood, almost green wood, of probably not more than four years old, appear to the ignorant one hundred--there is another which I often use, and that is, as I do now, I make the plate rigid, but free to vibrate, so as to allow those mysterious motions play, and I place my ear at one extremity whilst I scratch or scrape, or move the rosined bow over the other. With a similar result--the tone is not what I want, nor what it ought to be from a piece of really old, well grown wood. But mind, it does not follow that, given these conditions, the genuine thing would be what I want; but there would be more likelihood of its being so, and less annoyance in laying it aside us worthless, as I do this, selecting, for a second trial, a piece of what I call crabbed wood, known by a peculiar curl, and its very handsome and uncommon appearance. But before I test this, I must tell you that none but a workman of great skill would undertake to put it to use, as it is so "crabbed," so twisted in its fibre, that on the least carelessness of the artist, out flies a chip from where it should not, and a very delicate operation is resorted to in consequence to amend the blunder--insertion of a slip which must match the grain of the original every way, not only in flame, but even just as the flash of that fire falls in its movement when it becomes part of a violin. I have said earlier "I do not select handsome wood for its beauty," etc., and the loveliness of this piece must not tempt me to sacrifice what I hold of more consequence--tone. But I should do so did I now choose it; for it is weak where it should be strong, and poor, flabby and wretched from the view of acoustics. So you see how difficult it is even for the eye of experience and the mind of knowledge to wade through the vile to the pure uncontaminated: how much more so him, the sanguine amateur, at once the plaything and the dupe of those who do not scruple to beguile him by the one to the safe usage of the other! Still, do not let it be supposed that this slight tinge of the minor key is intended to make you despond; on the contrary, I want to show you better things, and mean to do so. And should the doing of it seem to prolong this part of my address beyond moderate limits, my excuse must be its deep importance. I have laid aside three pieces of sycamore, all, as I believe, very good for the back I purpose making. One is what is called "on the quarter," the other two "on the slab" (these terms I shall explain later, when I have fully spoken of the selection of wood). The two on the slab are in one piece, of course; the one on the quarter in two pieces, one of which, while I have been speaking, I have glued slightly, but firmly, to an upright support of glass, made very rough at the place where I fix the plate, so that the glue may the better hold, temporarily. The glass, being a non-conductor (or, if it respond in any way, however infinitesimally, it does not perceptibly affect my plate, and in no way my argument), leaves me the absolute control of this wood, and I proceed to lay an English lever watch on several places of it, keeping my ear near to that nodal point where I know will come the inner bout, or D of the violin, consequently the bridge, which I mark with a X. The tick-tack of the watch varies in strength as I get farther from or nearer to a nodal point, as, of course, it was bound to do; but, from experience, it is a fine-toned piece of wood. I detach it from the glass rod, and I try it by my finger and thumb test, and the vibrations and their quality are all I could desire. The signs of age appear genuine: the small pieces I cut from it do not give out any smell which they should not, and I pronounce the wood honest. I try the two whole backs, on the slab: both are good, one very fine in tone and handsome in appearance, which I finally select for the violin about to be made. Well, but you may say, in all your experiments, it appears to us the result is a question of degree. Exactly, a question of degree, as purity of air is, but who chooses the foul when he can live in the pure? As with flowers in their unassuming simplicity up to such elegance of form, colour and fragrance, that we stand amazed before them! As with man, from the worse than bestial state to which intemperance and crime have brought him, to the calm majesty of that eminence, attained only by the love of truth, of self-government, and scorn of evil-doing! This question of degree strikes at the root of the whole subject before you: for, upon how you answer it, or to what person or persons you repair for guidance in the selection of wood (being novices), will depend in a great measure your success or failure in the instrument yet unmade. The upper table or belly, made of pine, Swiss pine by preference, is the most important factor in the production of tone, consequently that to which the chief attention of the artist should be directed. No matter how good be his back or his ribs, or the sweep of his lines or curves, or quality of his varnish and its elasticity or its superb colour, the selection of wood for his upper table or belly, or soundboard, must be his chief concern, and neither money nor energy spared to secure the best. Well, I have by me several, of various degrees of excellence, and some of very doubtful reputation; nay, I may at once say they are bad--even by their look they are bad. This one is fairly straight in the grain, but it has been dried artificially, not as were the backs, yet more wickedly treated--impregnated with a deleterious something having the power of destroying a germ destined, if left to age, to become the soul of resonance, bringing it at once to a wretched maturity, its cells starved so, that when the strain of three hours' play in a hot room is put upon it, dumb is its voice, poor at the best, and it is played out. Do you not see that the soft part of the wood running between the lines or reeds, and where lie the cells of the pine, are too rapidly agitated, and cannot possibly hold their own under such worn-out conditions? whereas, given honest wood and genuine age, we should get strength to resist, and from such resistance would come what we seek, richness, possible only from sound resonance. For these cells must have the vigour of mature age, if that age be 150 years when naturally dried, in them; and my contention is, that the soundest is that which has not been robbed of its sap, as turpentine, before it be felled on the mountain side; but cut when well-grown, and well looked after for some years, then cut on the quarter (of which, later), and left for at _least_ seven more years before we use it; and mind, even then, it is _new wood_. I say, this is _my_ contention, and how I account for many superior, great-souled violins, which it has been my hard struggle to produce, yet now gaze on with pride; almost glorying in that enthusiasm which enabled me to combat all against my theory, and do that which I believe was done two hundred years ago, to such fine issues, reviled or not for so doing, is now to me of little consequence. Yet you must be told that there has been fierce, very fierce, controversy on this point, some going half-way and asserting only a portion of the sap should be withdrawn; some (and one of them a great chemist, a friend of mine) fighting hard to have it all taken away, and artificially dried after that! Does nature do this to the lungs of a Madame Patti or a Sims Reeves before she turns them on the world? Nonsense! But it is tests you want, and I will supply another, somewhat original. This piece I called above, bad, I lay aside, as No. 1; another, worse in grain, but, I believe, honest, as far as having the sap left in it goes, but not old, No. 2; and a magnificent piece of very old Swiss pine, brown, and honestly brown, with, probably, two or three hundred years of exposure as a beam in a Swiss chalet (for from that place and that dwelling I am prepared to prove it comes to me), which I number 3. The No. 1 is what I call feverish in its vibrations, and would be certain to give any instrument a hollow tone, an instrument cuddled, tempered, and made to fit the ear of the expected purchaser by the experienced one who has it to dispose of. The tone would not be intermittent--if it were that, we might have some hope of ultimate fulness and fair quality; but it would be loud and coarse; bawling when it should be energetic, yet somewhat hoarse, scarce knowing where to vibrate, it being capable of doing so, and well, when fairly mature. But that which, like the brazen actress, has a word or a sentence ready at any moment, and in any key and in any pitch, say good-bye to _that_ at once. The No. 2 will be good in about four or five years, but would be bad to work just now, so we will take up No. 3, upon which I must dwell somewhat. I can depend on the gentleman's word who procured this and other pieces for me; and I imagine his estimate of age is much under the approximate date, for I should say it was nearer three than two hundred years old. The colour all through is a mellow brown; the reed is of medium width, well developed, and nearly equal all over, and it is singularly bowed from bottom to top, meeting, when joined (for it is in two parts), just as will a string of a violin when you hold it in both hands, and twang it to test its equal vibration. Who is bold enough to assert that this is not a piece of finely developed virgin pine, grown on the southern slope of some Alp adjacent to where it had rested so long, in so mean a position for such finely sounding wood which I have proved it to be, yet destined to fill such an honourable place in the grand instrument of which I treat? No one, I venture to reply; but to my mind, and from experience, it _is_ such, the softer part, where run the cells, being firm, full, and mellow to the thumb nail on pressure (showing, I think, good sap lies dried there), which I have found before in such wood, proved to be grand beyond doubt by its superb tone in a violin. But I must give you, besides my other tests, that to which I occasionally resort. No. 1, you see, is as I intimated, loud and vulgar, ceasing its vibrations the instant I draw away my test of bow, etc., etc., whereas No. 2 does behave better in this respect, but is crude, and must lie some years longer neglected, when it will be interesting again to test it, by me or some other. No. 3 is all I could wish, or was prepared for, so I will hasten to the final trial and bring this lecture to a close, not subjecting this No. 3 to the trial which the others have undergone, as I am quite convinced of its great superiority, but shall, along with the others, put it now to the concluding one. From each of the three pieces, 1, 2, 3, I cut a slip, and, as you observe, I put No. 1 in this bright clear fire behind me, prepared so that it shall be as nearly free from _flame_ as possible, to enable me to make the manner of burning of each separated piece more real to you. From what I have said, leading up to what I now do, I imagine you will be somewhat prepared for the manner in which No. 1 burns, and perhaps the other two. But I hardly think you expected such a wretched flare up as you see here, such a fizzing, spluttering, ragged exhibition of imbecility. What of that sonority which could fill a mighty hall where we find five thousand listeners? Is such flabby nonsense as _this_ to be put into an immortal violin, because it purports to be fine Swiss pine at tenpence? But I reverence its ashes, and will lay them aside for a moment, as I wish you to see them alongside the others, when burnt. No. 2 is all right as to the sap being in it, but it is too volatile, somewhat crackling in its burning, yet far more steady in its flame, not spending its energy in fireworks, nor giving great cracks, like a whip, and a jump afterwards as No. 1, so we will lay aside _his_ ashes. Now, look at No. 3, as _it_ burns; and do not say, "You invariably have nothing but praise for your best things, how is that?" because, gentlemen, there is no blame which can be laid to them; that is why, and that is all. I ask you to look at this No. 3. It is a steady piece of business altogether. The flame is strong, bright, and well-sustained, with little or no smoke, and it gradually dies down, as, if you will allow my fancy, does he who has grown in uprightness to fine maturity, hale and beautiful to the last. Look at the remains of the three slips. The first is little more than black fluff; I can actually blow it away, poor rubbish! while the second and third are similar to each other, but the No. 3 is more compact, if I may so say, and this is what its excellence before burning would prepare one for. And do you now wonder that I so insist on every test possible being brought to bear in this important matter of selection? Which of you would hesitate one moment in his choice between these three bellies _now_? But you must still bear in mind that what I say _I_ bear out by test, others will decry as false, as their theory is as absolutely opposite to mine as the poles. But it will be proved yet, and on stable grounds; and if I, in conjunction with a man of great scientific attainments, succeed, on my theory, in the injection of liquid rosin, or turpentine, into the cells of a piece of broad-grained pine from which we can be sure its original sap has been withdrawn, and keep it well exposed to dry air for seven or so years; by its side a belly, cut from the same piece, in its sapless state; and then make two violins exactly alike in back and thicknesses of plates, etc., of the two pieces of pine, the one raw and sapless, its other half with an injection of rosin; I say we have done somewhat to allay anxiety on such a vital question, and can the more readily meet argument should we triumph on the point of tone--which is our standpoint--or settle down to take the tapped or the untapped indiscriminately. CHAPTER II. THE BACK. I naturally suppose you will supply yourselves with two benches--good, strong, English made, workmanlike things, one of them to be fitted with a single vice, the other with a double one, for joints, and for some work requiring such. And that you will get such tools as will be requisite from time to time for your work. [Illustration: Illustration of Tools used in Violin Making by Walter H. Mayson.] Then do me the honour of marking very closely how I set about my not too easy employment; for if you follow my ways, you will do well to observe every turn of them; remembering that every part of the building of this little, though mighty, shell is of great importance, and that there is nothing trivial about it. A prudent and watchful general will be very careful to see his rear is clear of the enemy before he makes an advance after an engagement; so I remember I have to speak to you of wood "on the quarter" and "on the slab" before we go farther. If you select a large orange, and take it entirely to pieces, you will have by you, without any farther illustration from me, my exact meaning of "on the quarter." For, when a tree is cut into parts for the violin, it is sawn equally in half, first; then each half into two quarters, and so on, exactly as is the orange subdivided; this is, I hope, clear to you as "on the quarter." I need hardly add that the broad edges, which you join afterwards, making the wood for the upper or lower table look like the roof of a house, are at the outer part of the tree, springing from the centre, where are the broadest rims, as is natural, seeing that youth is there, vigorous and full of sap; whilst the rims decrease to the outer, or bark part, in some cases very decidedly in width, in others more slowly. So you may gather from this why we have the narrow bait, or reed, where the bridge comes, the open reed at the edge. At least, I hope you can see the reason, which is, as generally admitted, and is certainly _my_ view of the matter, the strength is most wanted at the centre of the violin, as at the bridge, which the closeness of the reeds and narrowness of cell passages would supply. The broad reed is more volatile, and we put it to the edges, where it throws off the gathered activity of resonance, recurring so rapidly, which we increase by reducing the thickness of the plate there, bringing about that timbre so rich to the ear of the listener. These remarks apply to the belly, and are offered "on the quarter" only. Wood "on the slab" is never used for the front table in any case, as, cut that way, it would be far too weak. For "on the slab" means that our orange and our tree are cut _through_ the rings or reeds in flat layers of equal thickness (as required); and it is at once obvious that, in the upper plate, would be not only ugliness of broad, irregular figure of wood, with now and again snatches of the bait as it should be, and as I have endeavoured to show it is; but apart from its general weakness, it would be most irregular as the main vibrator or soundboard, so is entirely discarded. But both ways of cutting are employed for the back; I have heard tone as fine from one as from the other, yet I think, as a rule, I prefer the quarter to the slab, as being somewhat more resonant and of finer timbre. At the last moment I have selected the "brother" of my "Elephanta" violin--I mean its back--in one piece, but on the "quarter" in preference to the one on the "slab," so we will now proceed to active work upon it. I clamp the selected wood to this bench, having the flat side uppermost, and so that I can plane it to a perfect level surface, first at the narrow end, then at the broad, but _across_ the wood, as, being sycamore, it is very liable to cut very roughly if done lengthwise. This I do with a twenty-two inch trying plane, and having done it to my mind, I take cork rubber, as shown on illustration of tools used by me, No. 67, and rough sand paper, No. 2-1/2, maker's number, and proceed to scour it level--smoothness is not essential. With compasses 55 (again referring you to tool plate, as I shall often have to do), I find the centre of the wood at both ends, and I make a dot at each, then draw a distinct line down this centre, having placed a straight edge EXACTLY over each dot. And I must insist on this "exactly" wherever exactness that is only a mechanical result can be obtained; in the present instance, mind, any deviation from this base of operations, as I may safely say, will land you in no end of difficulties, as everything must be "square with the fiddle," as we have a habit of saying, though the whole is a matter of curves and lines, there being nothing of squareness about it. Having drawn this decided line, I take my half outline, plate 1, and place it exactly where, by tracing close to the side of it, touching every turn so that there can be no mistake hereafter, nor any "dog leg" nor broken curve, I reverse the veneer (the outline is of veneer) and do exactly the same as before, and you see the whole violin drawn, except that the button at the top of the instrument is in a rough state, and is not finished until the neck be added at the last. Plate 2. [Illustration: PLATE I.] [Illustration: PLATE II.] This outline is my own, drawn by me after Stradivari, but not by any means a copy of that master. Dimensions are:-- Length to where button joins the body . . 14-3/8 inches. Width of upper bout . . . . . . . . . . . 6-3/4 " " " middle bout . . . . . . . . . . 4-3/8 " " " lower bout . . . . . . . . . . . 8-5/16 " To be certain that my work is correct, I will prove it (for _you_ will have to do so when you begin), ruling a line from one upper point of lower corner to the other; and from one lower point of upper corner to the other, which gives you a square at each end of middle bout. I take compasses and place the point of one leg on square centre of broad end, and, opening until the point of the other leg touches lower point of upper corner, I describe a curve to opposite point; and I turn the back bottom to top, repeating the same to prove lower corners true. And both stand the test thoroughly. The next stage, rough as it appears in Plate 3, after cutting, will require great care on your part, or you will spoil your back; please note how it is done by me. I fix it in the double vice, the flat side, where is drawn the outline, facing me as I sit before it on a high stool. With saw 68 in my hands, drawn up taut by the slip of wood at the top tightening the string it controls, I proceed to cut from the top _straight_ down by the button, until I meet the line forming the upper sweep of the back. But you will observe how very careful I am as I prepare to turn the saw from straight to right angle (which is really at left curve at the button). I grease the saw well, turn it at both handles, so that when I again put the saw in motion, the steel lies flat, edges or teeth to the left, the frame of the saw upright. [Illustration: PLATE III.] I hope I have made this sufficiently plain, and that what I have said will enable you to go well round the violin back, guarding the corners, always greasing your saw as you prepare to round them, rather giving them a wide berth than brushing close past, almost touching the line, in a hurry, when snap may go your steel or a corner of the back. As intimated, you must clear the line by one-sixteenth inch, so that no risk is run by taking too much wood off, cleverly put on again, when matched by an expert, but which could hardly be done by you just yet. Well, as you see, I have cleared the rough back from the main body of the still rougher oblong wood, and it must now be my business to cut this rough outline to its true form, which is done by looking at the flat side where this pencil outline is, and with a very sharp, flat-ground knife, specially made for violin makers, tool 19. But before this is done, the main body must be reduced at the edges, on the convex or outer side, of course, to about the thickness of three-sixteenths of an inch good, which is a simple matter, if done with one and a quarter inch gouge 43, in this manner. In the middle of the bench, which will be your general one, and five inches from the edge, cut a one-inch square right through the wood, and fit a long stop therein, the tighter the better, and somewhat rounded off at the inner corner facing you. This will serve to keep one end of back or belly rigid when the other end is provided for, as I do thus:--About fifteen inches from this square top, and to your right, clamp down a piece of hard wood, three inches broad, and a quarter of an inch thick, square with the bench, and on both sides. Then cut a square hole in it, five inches from bench side, to enable you to allow the rough button to lie whilst you operate on one side of the back, then on the other. This, as you must see, enables the wood upon which you are to work, perfect freedom from obstruction of any sort, whilst the gouge cuts roughly all round, as shown in plate 3. So, leaving the convex side as it is for the present, I resume, as to cutting to the true outline with the knife. You can begin where you like, but I generally clear the right side first. I cut through the pencil line, not entirely obliterating it (which you will not find easy), because, after awhile, I have to efface it altogether with a file, to a perfect, smooth line. These square corners--these curves of top, middle, and lower bouts--all and everything must be well done, and no one thing outside of beauty left for the critical eye to gape at. Turning the plate to the outer side, I press it flat, between the square let into the bench and the three-inch slip clamped about fifteen inches apart, as spoken of before. This is done so that it may be rigid whilst I take one-inch rasp 47, and proceed to level all round the wood to about five-eighths of an inch and five-thirty-seconds of an inch deep. When I get to the ends of the back I loosen the wood, and use the file more freely at the end of the bench. But this is a matter left entirely to the workman. When this is nicely done, I wet a sponge and damp all I have gone over, surface and edge alike, and let it thoroughly dry, and when it is so, I employ medium cut file 63, half round, seven-eighths of an inch broad, and make the edge of the wood clean, and so even all round, that my first finger or thumb passes over the surface without a suspicion of irregularity suggesting itself. This, mind, must be most carefully done, as otherwise, if you, to make both ends meet, so to speak, take off _here_ a morsel too much, and a little extra _there_, to repair your fault, thinking to improve your line, you will find it _broken_, and no longer in uninterrupted movement, as it should be. I would rather see almost anything bad about this noble instrument than a slovenly outline, for it is not only ugly in itself, but leads to other imperfections, and should be most strongly condemned in the modern school; it will most certainly be by me, should a school spring from this book, as is already spoken of as most likely. The line being right, I next see to the flat edge being strictly of one thickness all round, which I get to my mind by using a cork rubber-tool 67, and about No. 1 sandpaper--maker's number. You can be sure of this correctness by using a sawyer's circular round gauge--and you had best do so. Now, gentlemen, this brings me to CHAPTER III. PURFLING. There seems a difference of opinion as to where this word originally was used. I fancy in ancient heraldry; but there the word is "pur_flew_" a "bordure of ermines, peans, or furs," whilst the ancients spell it "pur_file_," a "trimming for women's gowns." Milton says "to purfle--to embroider." So it seems it has ever been used as an ornamental border, no matter what thing it had to grace, for grace it is: and though not essential to the violin in the matter of tone, yet it most certainly is from an artistic point of view; and its absence in an old instrument constitutes the double drawback of being unfinished, and of less, very much less, value. But it will be asked by some people, who know something of the construction of the instrument, "what has purfling got to do with the making of a violin at this stage?" To which I answer, much, very much indeed from my standpoint, and according to my theory, as I will explain. It will not be denied, I think, that makers have done and now do this ornamental part _after_ the body of the instrument is put together--in fact, the query at the beginning of this paragraph proves it; by whom I do not know, nor advocated by what book. But I ask you, is it not vexatious when all your efforts have been used to work up your surfaces and to round off and finish your edges, you must in a sense undo much of it, temporarily, by using a tool, or tools, to cut the narrow channel for the ornament, and using glue to finally fix it, when _some_ of the superfluous purfling has either to be cut away by a gouge or scraper? And besides, and to me most important, glue, though wiped quickly away with a sponge and hot water, _will_ leave a residue which can never be wholly got out of the pores; and this should not be if you want a brilliant varnish. Of course I mean oil varnish, but am apt to forget this age of cheapness, which flies to easily put on, quick-drying, cheap spirit. So, as I made it quite clear to you when introducing the subject of these lectures, that it was entirely on _my_ system that I was going to work, so we will now resume, I deeming no apology necessary for occupying your time in denouncing what, should you imitate, would be bad in art. It is not my intention to go over the various styles of purfling--double, variegated, etc., etc.--but to show you how I prepare and place that which is universal now, the single, composed, as most people know, of two very thin strips of black wood on either side of one white one. But to do this, I must mark, cut and remove the groove in which it has to rest, which requires much explanation. The outlined back, being quite ready for marking, I clamp down to the bench with two of those marked 11, one at either end, leaving one side of the outlet free. Then I take this specially-made purfling tool, No. 13, with its tracers fixed for marking the two parallel lines about five-thirty-seconds of an inch from the perfect outline of the back, and I grasp the handle in both hands perpendicularly, pressing the revolving wheel against the edge, of course, and keeping the steel markers going carefully and with only slight pressure all round the instrument, stopping without running _off_ at the corners, however. There is, you see, about two inches not marked where the button comes; this must be traced by placing a piece of prepared hard wood, made to touch just the same curve as where the lines would have come had there been no wood there for a button. This must be very carefully placed and traced, as, otherwise, all will not be in correct sweep. Now, gentlemen, we enter on a difficult stage--nay, two; but then, as I was once asked by a gentleman, "Which part of a violin is the most difficult to make?" I replied, "Every part." But not quite that; still, what I am now going to do is not by any means the least. But you must not lose heart; he who never fights, never conquers; the man who never blundered or made a mistake, never made anything. Fasten the plate again on the inner part, not the edge, of the bench, so that you can lean over to do what you see I am about to do, and remove cramps as occasion requires. This is a one and one-eighth inch pointed gouge, 54, long ground and very sharp and thin. I grasp it in my right hand, holding and guiding with the left, and gently work to barely the depth of the purfling along one of the two narrow lines, and then the other for a short distance, until I get a somewhat more substantial double line all over the body. But I must warn you respecting the very tender corners. When you are about say an inch from each on both of its turns, work the three-quarter inch gouge, 52, still more guardedly, and barely so deep, and to a very fine point, both curves, ready to receive the two joined pieces of purfling which is to present you with what is called the "Bees' sting." Do all this as well as lies in your power, for upon this channel being well cut will depend much of the success of the whole ornamentation. Finishing the tracing and cutting the groove, I find tool No. 0, and remove the strip from it, plate 4. And let me here again tell you to be careful, as it is so easy for a chip to flirt airily from either side, or for your tool to probe too deeply and nearly through the wood, putting you--or, more likely, some one else--to trouble and very nice mending ere all is sound. And the corners only look really well and handsome when you find them as on plate 4, because experience tells one the material to go therein can be made to look equally so. [Illustration: PLATE IV.] To cut the prepared purfling into lengths (only approximate, exact had better not yet be tried by you), and heat the iron (inside the bending iron) to a good red, but not white heat, is the next thing I do, and, while the tool is getting ready for me, I cut the purfling of the middle bout at one end only, so that I have half of the finely graduated point we see in a corner of a well-wrought violin, the half springing from one of the other bouts forming the complete whole. You must not suppose that the _exact_ length of the ornament is to be measured by you, no, not with unabated practice; you will have to begin with a length always longer than you need, and pare from the points until your lengths fit beautifully before they are fixed with glue--that is, after bending to shape, which I now proceed to do. Of course, my experience is great, so I manage to get through this very tedious part of the work without breaking the sensitive thread of wood; but I am bound to tell you that you must be prepared for mishaps, as you will be sometimes off your guard and apply force (if ever so mild) to bend what tact, a sort of feeling I may say, and an iron kept hot, can alone achieve. But, if you break, prepare fresh lengths, and again and again; and I warrant your repeated disasters will have something to do with amended touch, and consequently its results. CHAPTER IV. BENDING THE PURFLING. What I have proved is the best way to bend the purfling is this--place the heated iron (plate 5) in the bending socket, and, when all is so that a smart rap of your hand on the metal shows you the warmth is about as you want it, hold the purfling by the left hand, the mitred end to the iron, so that when you bend, by holding, say rasp 47 in the right hand firmly against the point, and _letting the heat only make the curve you want_, or nearly without pressure, you will, I think, not do bad work. [Illustration: PLATE V.] So I am now ready to fix this ornament in the groove prepared, and have ready thin glue and a table knife to run it there, section by section, as, in cold weather especially, the liquid sets so rapidly. I select the middle bout of either side (it is not material which) and lay in the glue rapidly, and yet more rapidly the slip for insertion, merely at this stage laying it flat, and going to the lower and upper bouts, joining the corners as mitred as well as I possibly can. Then I press the purfling as deep as it will sink all over, finally wiping all superfluous glue away with sponge and hot water. But I have not done yet, for there may be a weak place or two in my work that glue will strengthen, so I run yet a little thinner all over the insertion, and let it rest until next morning, when it will mostly have sunk somewhere. When you are at this stage, great headway has been made; but you must now make ready for greater exertions, and prepare to comply with the requirements of the higher branches of this most exacting art, which you will when you model the back as I now begin to do this, which has dried overnight. But I must pause to make you acquainted with the difference between "outline" and "model" of a violin--not by any means synonymous, as some have supposed and do yet suppose. I ought, perhaps, to have done this before, but will no longer delay. It always makes me feel very angry when I hear some person, palpably ignorant in the matter, exclaim, "what a fine model" when he or she means "outline." And again, "this is a grand 'copy' of so-and-so," when _example_ of such is meant; how can an example of, say "Mayson" be a "copy" of him? A fine outline will naturally lead you to expect a fine model--that is to say, arching of length and breadth, graceful and perfectly relative as regards proportion, curves, and an unmistakeable _oneness of expression_, if I may so speak, of every part as a whole, nothing whatever of incongruity or want of symmetry intruding to disturb once and always the gaze of the connoisseur. But it by no means follows that a grandly carved and completed model has for its counterpart an equally bold yet subtly refined outline; on the contrary, I have seen just the reverse, as I have also seen most wretched modelling wedded to an outline fit to grace the finest instrument extant. But it is not often so, for, as a rule, where a mind is highly gifted, so that elegance breathes in what its body creates, a broken line or curve comes as a great surprise, and one is apt to doubt the same hand fashioned it all. Be this as it may, call things by their proper names, and in elegant terms where no quaint ones are sacrificed; and if you know better, never let a false epithet pass unchallenged, for I do not see why a refined, but _correct_, mode of expression should not be as vigorously upheld in this fine art as in speaking of any of its sisters. For surely vulgarity has no right of place in its vocabulary, yet much language that is certainly not elegant, and not of any particular force of expression, finds repose therein; and a really beautiful and great work is neither made more lovely nor more exalted through contact with that which has neither the status of the one nor the other at heart, except that beauty or high estate be ready ministers of a rapacity calculated sooner or later to bring about its own terrible undoing. So I resume, all being hard and dry, and begin to model the back. CHAPTER V. MODELLING THE BACK. Pressing the plate firmly between the fixed rests on the bench, I take three-quarter inch gouge, tool 22, and proceed to cut a channel entirely round the wood to the depth of about one-twelfth of an inch and about three-quarters of an inch broad from one-sixteenth or rather less, of an inch from extreme edge, and through the purfling, of course. The student will at once see that this is done as a base from which is to spring the arching. There must be no attempt at a _finished_ bend in going over this groove; but there must be the greatest care observed in the cutting of it, as you are using the tool following the outline, consequently, in the manner most liable to encounter disaster in the shape of chips flying from that narrow edging which it is your set business to leave as intact as possible. After going over the wood in what I call "the guitar line," that is to say, passing by for the present all the corners, I return to them, in my hand gouge 24, three-eighths of an inch, and work them out on the same basis exactly as the main groove. All this being to my mind as shown in fig. 6, I take gouge 43, used before, and in the roughest way possible, and avoiding any depth of cutting, I model the back in its first stage, as shown in fig. 7, obtaining even here a decently developed and somewhat truthful arching all over. [Illustration: PLATE VI.] [Illustration: PLATE VII.] From which I advance to obtain the first smooth stage all over, as in fig. 8, thus--with a square of No. 2-1/2 sandpaper folded in half, so that in size it is about 2-1/2 inches all ways, and this again folded crosswise, giving me a firm point as would be a rasp so formed, I work out the corners, and all about them for, say, an inch, until I get a beginning and an example of groundwork from which to smooth down the whole. Then I take the cork rubber, tool 67, and a piece of sandpaper as last, rather larger than the one just used, so that I can bend it firmly over both sides and as I want, when I change it about to secure a fresh, sharp edge. [Illustration: PLATE VIII.] I begin by firmly placing the wood, etc., as before, and working the sandpaper (over the cork), firmly pressed in the first stage, against the rough, raised edge, all around the outline, but being most careful not to wear what is left of it away, which must be left intact as far as possible to the end, when it is made to assume that beautiful sort of curled, yet sharp edge so much admired. Then, more towards the upper ridges, over and over, backwards and forwards, having always the careful arching and model of elegance before me, until I arrive at that growing stage of the work as shown in fig. 8, which I proceed to damp well all over with a wet sponge, the surface, as you may see, as I hold it well to the light, being again abominably rough, and not at all _now_ like fig. 8, as the moisture has raised the fibres in all directions. But before I go farther into this interesting, consequently absorbing process, I must answer some question such as "but why use sandpaper? it is decried by most experts, and utterly ignored by some writers as having no status among the tools used by professional makers of note, and was not believed to have had a place among those of the Ancients." Then so much the worse for the work of the makers of to-day and for those of yesterday. But who says the ancients did not use it, or crocodile skin, or a cloth made in Venice, and somewhat after our emery cloth? or variously shaped files of different cuttings? At a time when sculpture and very chaste and highly finished woodwork would employ it largely, does any one mean to assert that the violin, not by any means held in the estimation it is to-day, must receive the dignity of small plane and scraper only, and such a useful article treated with contempt _because_ it was what it was? If they do, or any of you do, I should much like to devote an hour privately to any such, when it should be my business to combat such a sentiment, more especially as some writers seem to hint that when sandpaper is used, its scratchy effects can be traced, as I could bring many of my finest efforts to prove the contrary. My reason for not using small planes for modelling is, that in the first cutting you cannot possibly go over the delicate groove without endangering the surface level--that is to say, if you tear any part in going against the grain (or sometimes with it) and go _deeper_ than you should, would you not at once ruin your even flow of curves as by early arrangement you had set out? your only escape from fiasco being sinking to a lower surface and sacrificing your original conception of true proportion. Therefore, I stand to the system adopted at the outset of my career, and resume. The wetted surface being thoroughly dry (not apparently so, but really free from any feeling whatever of dampness) I take the next degree towards fineness of sandpaper (or if you like the term "glass-paper" better, by all means adopt it), and I do precisely as formerly, again and again, until six courses have been carefully gone over. Then I go over the same ground six times more, using scrapers 4, 20, 26, 62 alternately, and continually holding up the surfaces to the light as they develop their curves and archings truer and more true, as I scrape here and there with great patience to bring all this about. At this point I suppose you will think the modelling and surface finishing is finally accomplished, and that the interesting passages on thicknesses are about to be written. But it is not so, for the final surface of silk-like smoothness is four or five coats farther from me yet. So I attack with No. 1 sandpaper the surface once more, mostly cross-wise this and all following stages, putting fair pressure and with both hands on the rubber, so that I get sure curves and even surface all over; and then I take No. 0 paper, working well many times round and round by the outline and all over and lengthwise among the curves until I finish this exacting piece of business and fine art, as shown in fig. 9. [Illustration: PLATE IX.] And the height of the wood at the middle bout is five-eighths of an inch; at the upper seven-sixteenths of an inch; at the lower, bare half-inch more or less, a fine eye being necessary to discriminate to a hair. CHAPTER VI. WORKING OUT THE BACK. Passing on, I draw your attention to the working out of the back. I show you, fig. 10, what must be drawn on the back and belly (on the flat, of course) before a chisel touches the wood for excavation. The blocks at either end speak for themselves, they having been fashioned to shape out of Swiss pine, and planed and squared so as to be glued square where you see them marked, later on. And be sure they stand one-and-a-half inches high in the rough, for a reason I will give you later, and about five-eighths of an inch thick, to about the breadth you see on fig. 10. [Illustration: PLATE X.] Before, however, you can do anything in hollowing out the back, you will have to provide yourselves with a bed in which your table must firmly rest while you do so. Therefore, purchase a block of dry beech or birch, about one-and-a-half inches thick, sixteen inches long by eleven inches wide, and lay your finished back in the centre of it, tracing the whole outline, button as well, distinctly thereon; and having done so, cut by the outline inside all round to the depth of about one quarter of an inch, and from this basis proceed to make, as nearly as possible, a counterpart of the model of your back, but reversed, of course. And get all the tool ridges well levelled with rough to fine sandpaper; and, when you lay in your table for cutting, place a strong piece of brown paper for it to rest upon, not only to prevent it in any way scratching the fine surface of your wood obtained at so much trouble, but it enables you to shake off it quickly any residue of coarse dust or small cuttings that _will_ creep under the wood upon which you are working; and so you get on rapidly and cleanly. You will notice that I have again drawn the guitar line, and at a distance from the outline, so that a sufficiently flat surface is allowed for the ribs to rest firmly upon later. And I cut all round this line just as an indication, merely as a starting point from which to work more deeply all over, until I arrive at a point when the calipers, No. 34, test the thicknesses roughly--which is by the way. For I have first to cut three cross channels, at the upper, middle, and lower nodal points, fig. 11, at such a depth that I caliper good three-sixteenths of an inch at the centre of middle groove, one-eighth of an inch upper and lower, falling away very little to all edges for the present. And I draw a distinct pencil mark through each groove, so that I must be a poor workman indeed if I go through the wood through these bars, as I have known some novices to do, or cannot gauge pretty well all over by their aid before using the calipers. [Illustration: PLATE XI.] But you who, when beginning to cut out back or belly, having no sort of experience whatever, must use every care possible, and keep calipers No. 3 (double) going constantly, as, with their aid, you will at once see by the outside half the thickness registered at the inner; then you can pare away with gouges, small and large, and with spoke shaves, Nos. 48 and 53, until you get a fairly sloping and somewhat level surface from bare three-sixteenths of an inch in centre to full three-thirty-seconds of an inch all round by the edges, as shown by calipers. And thus I come to the first rough thicknesses of the back; and I damp the surface all over as I did the outside, and dry it carefully; for you will understand the necessity for this carefulness, there being some fear of slight warping from the true flatness now the wood is thin all over, if quick, artificial heat be adopted to draw the moisture. Whilst this natural process is going on, you must take the large calipers and open them at three-sixteenths of an inch. Then hold the plate in the extended left hand by middle bout, inside upwards, calipers and a long lead pencil _together_ in the other; and, beginning at the centre of the plate, draw the calipers carefully from this starting-point all over the rough surface, gauging with your eye for the present any irregularities of said surface; for I want you to mark every part where the points stick, first within a radius of three inches, gradually extending your field of operations, slightly tightening the calipers as you get farther away from your centre, until the edges are finally reached, when you use the double calipers, No. 3, to ascertain the exact thickness at those places. This being done, and the places marked levelled down, using spoke shaves, flat gouge No. 50, and rough sandpaper 3, take again the large calipers and go over the whole as before, but more carefully; and do this time after time, until the plate is accurately gauged from five-thirty-seconds of an inch centre to the diminution of about a good sixteenth--say one-twelfth of an inch at the edges. My way of working has always been thus, in preference to using what people call "indicating calipers"; and my advice to you is, do likewise, for you not only get over your ground more nimbly, but you can get from your centre more accurately, I maintain, gradation of thicknesses. I give you what I have proved the best thicknesses for my backs, and am pleased to do so to all the world; but if you care to try a hair or two thinner in the centre, adding those hairs to the edges, do so; you will not lose in energy, but you will in timbre, a trifle. Before finally quitting this hollowing out of the back, gauge for the last time, then use fine sandpaper, and leave no mark of any tool whatever, as by clean work you will be judged. This question of thicknesses is an important one, but applies more to the belly than the back; and I shall have more to say on this head when I get to that soundboard, merely adding now that the back must never be weak in wood, yet, at the same time, never so strong that a woody tone is the result, inevitable, as the timbre quality is scarcely developed, and without that I never care for it. It is desirable at this stage that I point out to you how the inner edges of the back are rounded before the ribs are fixed. I use file No. 6, half round, flat side to the wood first, turning to the round side for finish. When at the corners, I employ knife No. 8 in cutting where the file would not do it so well in the early stage, and this file not at all nicely for finish, so I employ a smaller one, No. 9, to these corners, the other all over the rest of the wood, cleanly doing the work so that about one-sixteenth only of the inner edge is rounded off. Then No. 1 sandpaper is used to finish off the work done, and the next stage is glueing on the end blocks, preparatory to fixing the ribs as they get made--of which, later. So, for the present, I leave the back, and take up the wood you will remember I selected for the front table, or belly, and devote to it a separate section; merely adding that in the course of my work I have so arranged all the thicknesses of the back that it answers to the tone C, which do not forget, as I shall have again to refer to it. CHAPTER VII. THE BELLY. This is the soundboard of the instrument--that which, I suppose, vibrates as fourteen to ten as compared with the back--that is to say, it is recorded that, given equal conditions, such will be the case. It is that which first receives concussion as the bow strikes the strings, which shock travels down the upper surface of the gut from the bridge until the nut at the end of the fingerboard be reached, when it flies under the said string to the bridge again, which communicates the shock to the belly, the belly to the back by soundpost, ribs, neck, scroll, and all about it, to the mass of air in the body of the violin, when comes what we call tone, and rightly do we call it so, if pure vibrations have been brought into play, otherwise noise would be a much safer word to use. Of course, I give you the above in detail: it will appear to you as though the whole of the agitations were simultaneous, such is the amazing rapidity with which all this takes place. And I only give it to show you how incumbent it is upon you to use every care in all you do when engaged in this work, more especially that on the upper table. For no matter how well your back may be gauged, finished, and finally adjusted; or your ribs, how equally balanced one with another or in relative proportions with the whole: if your tell-tale soundboard be defectively wrought, cheeks too much hollowed, or the thicknesses carelessly seen to, there will be beats in your tone, strings irregular, weak notes and strong ones, and a general unsatisfactory result which could easily have been avoided. But I will get to work on this upper table; and, there being some interesting features to notice as the panorama of its construction passes before your eyes, you will do well to let nothing escape your observation; besides, there is much that is merely a repetition of the working of the back, and which I omit in letterpress. The said back, you will remember, was in a whole piece--this belly is in two pieces, as I intimated under the heading "selection of wood"; and, as a natural consequence, has to be joined before I can operate upon it as a whole before you. The manner of preparing the two half plates for a joint is this:--upon this bench I place what is called a shooting board--a board, as you may observe, upon which, near one end, is inserted, right across it from edge to edge, a piece of wood, square with the length, to serve as a stop against which I press what it will be convenient to call one half of the roof of a house, fig. 1, plate 12, lengthwise, which serves to illustrate one half of the belly, thickest edge, of course, on a square with the edge running along by where rests a very choice trying plane, on its side, tool touching this plate, which I hold with my left hand firmly, whilst I _shoot_ the said plane from end to end of the half belly, fig. 2, plate 12. This I repeat on the other half, and then hold them together, flat side towards me, as I raise the two to a strong light, and if no glimmer whatever creeps between the joint, then I call the two plates perfectly united, and ready for the glue to make this absolute. But if they do not appear as I intimate, then you must operate until this very important part of your work be strictly that of a perfect whole; for, remember, as a whole the two parts must remain for as long as the violin holds together, which may be for two hundred years over and above the years that shall be given to you who make it; and this alone should be an incentive to good work. [Illustration: PLATE XII.] We now arrive at this joining of the wood for the soundboard, and the glue to be used must be of the best. Not too thin, but sufficiently so to drop freely from the brush used, and clear whilst being tenacious, as felt by pressure between finger and thumb. As you may observe, I place one half of the wood in the vice of the bench, and on this, the other half (fig. 3, plate 12). With the hot glue to my right hand, I take the loose half of the wood in my left, and hold it against the one fixed in the bench, and upon the two broad centres or outside edges thus exposed, I work rapidly a good layer of the glue, and then, placing them on each other again, I move them very firmly backwards and forwards, and so they are united, remaining in the bench until set. My dear friends, it is not to be supposed you will do this exceedingly difficult piece of business even moderately well at first; but you will have to do it somehow as a commencement, and I hope I have made all clear to you. Think the thing well over; see your way well ahead; and I am quite sure your success will be commensurate with your endeavour. From this stage you will have to repeat what was done to the back, until you reach the cutting out of the groove preparatory to insertion of the purfling; and I only stop you here to direct your special attention to one feature of that groove, or, rather, four of the same character, viz., the corners. These, owing to the soft nature of the wood, will be difficult for you to cut out clean, so as to leave the sharp point (so much admired when well done, so much condemned when ill) clear and distinct; and you must use small sharp knife, No. 8, to effect this, not taking the gouge, 52, to the extreme corner when using it near to it, as the pressure would, without doubt, break it off. Leaving you with this caution, I shall imagine all done as was the work on the back up to cutting the groove after purfling, plate 6, and resume there, for the purpose of warning you that the gouges for this same work on the soft pine, as opposed to the sycamore, must be exceptionally sharp, and you _must cut_, and very clean, too, or you will tear the wood, and go below your level, as I before cautioned you. More than this I need not say just here, so proceed with the modelling of the belly, on the former lines gone over for the development of the back, with this difference, you must only use coarse sandpaper in the very early stages, and continue the work over more stages by at least three than on the back; for pine takes more readily scratches, and takes them deeper, than sycamore; and more patience in bringing it to a surface like satin, where no trace of scratch from scraper or sandpaper can be detected under delicate varnish. Then you must continue until the finished plate 9 is reached, only, as I said above, bringing up the surface to a finer state than the back--not to be called waste of time by you on any account, as you will soon understand when you come to find out what a heartless exposer of any frailty is oil varnish. So at length we come to the hollowing out and to the thicknesses of the belly. CHAPTER VIII. THICKNESSES OF THE BELLY. Cut the three channels across as explained for the back, but in this way:--At the upper nodal point, so that your calipers register bare one-eighth of an inch from one side to the other, centre as well--same at the other node; and at the centre, full--rather over--one-eighth across, all to be for the present only, as a slight correction will be effected as the final stage of the use of the calipers is reached. Then operate over the whole surface on these lines, taking little or nothing from the extreme edges, because I want you to reserve your strength there in case your pine turns out very active--that is to say, very sensitive to vibration, in which case, mark me, you must keep up your strength of wood, as this extreme activity will not be in harmony with the regulation mass of air in the violin, and the steadiness of tone will suffer in consequence. And, that you may very clearly understand the reason of this occasional activity, I must tell you that sometimes the wood, in being cut by the saw at the mill, gets a trifle _off the quarter_ on to the slab; and this, coming to the edges, is less able to withstand the strength of the air in its action of 512 beats to the second, say of responsive C; whereas, all being properly and fairly on the quarter, a slight diminution is allowed, and I consider necessary. And I think the above remarks will very fully explain _why_ we so insist on the upper table being _never_ on the slab or near it. So we will consider the wood roughened out as I directed, and now I must get you to follow me closely whilst I arrange the thicknesses so that I get that tone which I have found the fullest, the most rich in quality, and of the finest carrying power. I work at the part of the belly which I call the centre, as it is the place where the bridge stands and answers to central node, consequently the middle of the whole construction and of the mass of air: I scrape and level here until I get a fraction, a hair or two less than one-eighth of an inch thick. This I continue along the breast until I arrive at both upper and lower nodal crossings, when I gradually thin off to both ends, the final thickness being at the flat left for the end block when the belly is attached to it, one-thirty-second of an inch less than the centre. And I reduce from the centre of the breast to half-way towards all four edges, top and bottom, about as at the centre, barely, and to the edges, till they register a fraction thinner than at the upper and lower ends. The above, be it understood, is when finally finished and smoothed down. I now show you with the calipers how accurately the work corresponds with the theory advanced; and on this, my favoured mode of working for the tone so highly spoken of by my numerous admirers, I have no more to say, except to tell you that the wood so finished corresponds in tone to D, and you will still remember that the back was C. But other thicknesses than these, both of back and belly, are employed; such as thinner in back and thicker in belly; and as used by Joseph Guarnerius del Jesu--the back about such as we have used in this instrument, but the belly a trifle THINNER in the centre than at the edges--they being about one-eighth of an inch. And we have it on record that many of the violins of Stradivari were originally _one thickness_ all over the upper table, barely one-eighth, and about as I use for the lower; would that we could speak with authority on this as on many another point! But many instruments have had wood taken from them by vampires and faddists, and we can _not_ speak with authority as to the vital points of scores of these noble efforts of art, therefore better not lay down laws or adduce supposed facts regarding them, but do our utmost to build up something as noble, and each one of us leave art no worse than he found it, casting reproach and scorn on the utterly indifferent, or the detestable pander or the vampire. As I have not to recur to the thicknesses again, it may here be a convenient place in which to say a few words on the nodal points in relation thereto. Many of you may not know what a "node" in music means exactly--some of you may know nothing whatever about it. Simply, it is the fixed point of a sonorous chord, at which it divides itself, when it vibrates by aliquot parts, and produces the harmonic sounds. And do you not see how this struck chord can serve and does serve to illustrate my exposition of the back and belly--more particularly the latter--in their vibrations and their concentration at upper, middle, and lower nodes? To these places they fly, they cling, singly, thin, and of no character; and from these places they again fly, but united in a strong, sonorous _tone_. How then, think you, will fare those worked out cheeks or attenuated edges, (some of which latter I have seen no thicker than a worn shilling), when worked hard and in a hot room? Gentlemen, they will sound like something between a musette and a Jew's harp, when you are near to the player; they will not be heard _at all_ some yards away! Yet it is such a tone (!) which many hundreds of old violins possess, and after which so many million people run. Please note this is entirely without prejudice. Every person has a perfect right to use his own judgment; and tastes differ. CHAPTER IX. THE SOUNDHOLES. The next operation on the belly is cutting the _f_ or soundholes, and I need hardly say (for it has been so often said, that surely you must all be informed on this point), how the drawing, the placing, and the cutting of this most crucial test of a man's powers as an artist or workman, determines the extent of one or other, or both; for a man may be the one, and show himself a blockhead as to the other. You ask for originality, and you find copy, copy all over the world; yet you may suddenly pounce on a line or two not seen in combination before, most abominably in juxtaposition to their entire opposites in curve as they are in grace as in character. For example or examples, suppose I found, crowning the severe, almost rigid column of the soundhole of Del Jesu, the mobile bend of Stradivari? or, at the turn of the companion lines of Stradivari, the Gothic arch of Del Jesu? with the base of each of a like nature--do you think I should pass such without a severe growl of condemnation? And yet I _have_ seen such; and I scarcely expect to go on to the end without seeing more of such incongruous monstrosities, but I trust not from any one who _can_ give one thought to character as applied to form. Fig. 13 is a rough example of the soundhole which I shall presently stencil on to the belly just ready for it. As you will notice, the soundhole is cut out of a piece of paper which follows the lines of one of the lower corners. So, upon the corresponding corner of the wood to be cut, I place this that represents the soundhole, exactly; and I dip a small stiff brush into lampblack, not too wet, rather dry than otherwise, and I dab on to the belly through the cut impression of the soundhole--then I reverse the paper, doing exactly the same at the other side of the wood. Of course, I know beforehand that the impressions will be anything but perfect, or clear, or alike; but I have a way of making them so in cutting, and you, many of you, I hope, will soon acquire the same power. The general feeling of active form, as I may say, must guide you; because, to have the stencil plate by your hand as you seek to give vitality to the dead form impressed on the wood, is one thing, but to copy it slavishly, even though it be your own design, is another. In one word, you must always _create_, no matter what work you are engaged upon, and, in this case, two as original soundholes as lies in your power, and resembling each other as much as you can cut them, but-- cut by an artist. [Illustration: PLATE XIII.] Proceeding to put you in the way of doing this, I bore a small hole with the little piercer tool 0, and, inserting the fine cutter of fret saw, tool 69, inside the belly, so that I have the upper side to the eye, I press the said fine saw into the slot of the screw, and, with spring pliers 51, I fix it for cutting. Then I hold the belly with the left hand level against the lower part of my breast, and cut out a rough passage round the inner part of the soundhole, never touching the line, though, but leaving that for the knife 8, which follows. Where I must especially caution you in the use of this fret saw, is at the upper and lower points which face the holes, as they are so liable to snap there, especially at the lower. Still, with care, you will manage to do this neatly and safely, as you see I have done one, and now proceed to work with the knife mentioned. This knife, as you see, is very much worn, and is very thin and very sharp. And the two latter characteristics it _must_ possess, as you will one and all of you find when you come to use such, for, as I cut from the inside, the steel continually cropping up here and there, in curves and near to corners, I must be prepared at any moment to work up or down, backwards or forwards, with the grain or against it, until I get somewhat of the shape I wish. But not nearly all I want; so I trim the longer lines until they bend gracefully, ready to fall as does the head of a rocket before it bursts, or give a majestic sweep at the base where they terminate in the spread wing. The apertures at the summit and base I round carefully off; the cuts at the centre of the figure, as a break, as finish to what was unfinished without it, and as a guide to determine the position of the bridge. And you will conclude this finishes the one soundhole; but it does not, for after I have dressed down the work on the outside with No. 0 sandpaper, there is not a clean bit about it--not a curve or sweep or any part true; and when I retouch it all over, and damp it all over after doing that, when it dries, there are still bits I don't like, and patiently trim it and touch it once or twice again, as I have done to many a poem, to be, perhaps, only engraved in water, or ice at the best; typical, not only of its reception by the world, but of its ultimate starvation and ignominious effacement by the coming warmth of an inspiration congenial to all. This being at length quite to my mind, I cut its companion as true to the lines of the other as possible, fig. 14, when I take in hand the placing of the bass bar on the belly, in the rough, preparatory to toning it down in shape, etc., when the glue has set hard. [Illustration: PLATE XIV.] CHAPTER X. THE BASS BAR. There are different opinions as to not only the function or functions of this bass bar, but as to its length, size in height and breadth, and the placing of it by the soundhole on the G side of the instrument. As to the former, I think it is pretty well agreed that the bar--only one, please--answers the purpose of a support and vibrator, as opposed to the soundpost, which is of a quite opposite nature, being semi-rigid and a conductor of sound. It is a support where the belly, if too thin, has a tendency to sink; and how often do we notice this, aye, and in (market) valuable old violins too! when bars, out of all proportion to the rest of the work, have to be inserted, so as to keep up a dignity of doubtful reputation! I will try to make this very vital point clear to you. The wood of this belly is very thin and very old, consequently, very sensitive and active, and more responsive than it ought to be to do battle properly with the mass of air inside, fine, solid tone being required. In a measure to check this over activity and give more resistance, this heavy bar replaces the old one; but do you not see that a counter evil results? for the over weight of wood added as a bar is not in sympathy with the rest of the thin table; and this, not being strengthened (as against all the canons of order or of etiquette of the initiated), it still responds as before its old companion was cast aside; and I maintain what is gained in strength is lost in quality, resulting from a jarring of two rival conditions. As I told you, the tone of the belly was D when I stencilled the soundholes on to it; when I had cut the soundholes, it came to C; and it must be my business to bring it again to D, as I work only on these lines, as, if back and belly be of one tone, or too severed, or the latter, say C and the former D, or near to these, there will be weak and strong tones, beats, and perhaps more than one wolf, and not a result at all satisfactory. Placing the belly face down in the rest before used when hollowing out, I take a strip of old pine (in fact, cut from this belly itself, when in the rough), eleven inches long, five-sixteenths of an inch wide, one and one-eighth inches deep. I then roughly plane this on the shooting board (the plane on its side as used for shooting the plates of the belly). In fig. 15 you will see that I place the bar at a slight angle, lengthwise, and close to the soundhole; and you will also observe the small squares of pine glued along the joint, so as to give strength to that joint. And I must tell you to put these squares _cross-wise_ with the grain, as I have seen joints in violins give way, and the bits prove a mockery, as they were placed _with_ the grain, or lengthwise--that is to say, they offered no resistance when the collapse came, but quickly yielded and split as would have done a layer of a turnip! Surely, men must be artists indeed, not to forecast such a likelihood arising as this. [Illustration: PLATE XV.] Continuing _re_ Bar, I work away until I get it to fit absolutely to the surface to which I have to glue it; when I slightly thin it in width from the broad end to the narrow of the violin, as I study every possible contingency; and, by not over-weighting the lesser surface for vibration, I give it a freedom otherwise somewhat retarded, even though infinitesimally. And you will wonder why I place it so much nearer the broad end than the narrow--against the laws laid down by the unctuous law-makers of no matter what nationality? Well, it is because I look upon it as a vibrator and as a _pendulum_; and surely you would never look for the true action of a pendulum, had it a tendency either to one side or another? No, it must work truly and have no bias whatsoever. So, I contend, must this bar, as a pendulum work clean and truly, taking its centre from the cuts in the soundhole, where begins concussion, and the surface of the whole body, wood and air alike. Then why do people act counter to this law, for such it is, and place short bars and long bars, thick and thin, but ignoring this principle for which I so strongly contend as of the greatest consequence? Let them continue to do so, and go on producing tone so satisfactory to them--I advocate an entirely different mode of treatment, as I produce a purity of tone which is a matter of so much comment--and I leave it to your investigation. The cutting, shaping, and bringing the belly to the note D, by means of this, is part of the work to which you will have to devote great attention: from the shadow thrown by the bar in fig. 15 you will notice that it is shaped somewhat after a gracefully wrought bow, unbent, and at once makes it apparent that it will be a factor for good, as many such have I proved to be. The reader must not consider the two blemishes on each upper curve of the D as shown on fig. 15, errors in work; they are evidently thumb marks, and dirty ones, through carelessness of photographer. This brings us at length to the end of the construction of back and belly, both of which we shall leave for the present, whilst we consider the very essential ribs. CHAPTER XI. THE RIBS. The thickness, but more especially the depth of these, is of much consequence in relation to strength and quality of tone. I have found a bare sixteenth of an inch answer very well for thickness, and on the model I have worked on before you, in depth one and a quarter of an inch at lower or broad end, gradually narrowing to one and one-eighth full at the narrow. Now, take the thickness for granted; but follow me very closely while I describe to you how I arrive at the depth being just what I want and sought for to obtain the note B _before_ the soundpost is inserted, when you blow in the _f_, C, _after_ it is fixed. Of course, this is making the scientific part of the work, or one of them of no sort of anxiety to you, being already done by me at no little trouble and much thought; but, as I set out as a teacher, if only of moderate calibre, I shall go through with my endeavour to make some good workmen out of my listeners and readers, therefore you are welcome to what is, I think, of importance, never minding what will be said at the outset, that all this fuss is somewhat of nonsense, seeing that it was _so_ easy to copy the depth of a rib, and get to what was wanted and avoid it. But I do not like copying where I can help it; besides, what I shall lay before you has the merit of getting at what you want to a nicety, and of finding out what depth of rib will suit the model in hand, and obtaining the mass of air of which I before spoke. On a finished back, just like the one which we have before us, I fitted a set of ribs about one inch deep to three-quarter inch taper, and on a similar belly to this, another set of like depth; but I so arranged that those on the back should be one thirty-second more _out_ than usual--that is to say, nearer the edges of the wood--and those on the belly one thirty-second more _in_, or away from those edges. Then, after filing and scraping for a long time, I, with no little patience withal, contrived so that I fitted one set over the other of the ribs, (as a double box) and got a sort of fiddle body, clumsy of course, but I saw my way to doing just what I had set out to do, and I did it eventually. Gradually shallowing the ribs by lowering belly or raising back, I got various tones or notes for the air mass, trying E, D, C, B, A, but no resonance such as that of B suited me, so I roughly glued these ribs firmly together, fitted up the whole thing with every accessory such as would allow me to play on the instrument, with the satisfactory result of proving a case beyond question. So I get to the necessary and somewhat difficult process of making the ribs, etc. But the mould in which they are to be temporarily fixed must be first made by you, and this is the way to go about it. Get a piece of dry beech--birch or maple of the plain sort will do--18 inches long, 7 inches broad, and 1-1/2 inches deep. Take the half outline of the violin which you have decided to make, and place it flush with the edge of the above block, equal spaces being left at either end. Then very firmly and very accurately draw the half outline on the block for your mould. After you have done this, you must trace an _inner_ line all round the other, one-eighth of an inch from the real outline; and, when you get to the corners, carry this inner line to a broad, open point somewhat beyond the square of the corners, as by this you are enabled to pass your ribs a little over the terminus at said corners, which will most materially assist you to effect a good joint there. After this is well done, and your under surface quite level with the plane, take the block to a good band sawyer, and get him to saw _just through_ the inner line, and you will have your mould in a measure ready for your ribs. Still, there is something to be done before you can set to work to fashion them, and the first is, square after the fret saw every quarter inch of its work, with steel square, 60, on tool block, your basis being your planed under surface, as most reliable. Then, about one inch from inner mould, and one inch apart all round, drill holes through the wood with tool 56, or similar; and three larger holes, about seven-eighth inch diameter, one and a quarter inches under the centre of the D or middle bout, the other two some distance under the two corners. The small holes are for the bent steel cramps 2 to hold by when the linings are being fixed to the ribs, etc., and the three larger ones to hold down the centre rib in the same way by means of fitted wood block 33, and for the corner blocks, when they are fitted properly to the shaped ribs. (Cramp 11 is used in these latter cases.) Having the mould ready, and in good order, prepare your ribs in this manner:--selecting what is nearest in figure to the back--good, honest wood--dress down both sides of it, the outer to a more finished surface, of course, and cut them to the dimensions previously stated, viz., one and a quarter inches to one and one-eighth of an inch whole length; but this whole length you will have to determine by measurement of each separate bout--lower, middle, and upper--which, when done to a nicety, mark on respective bouts for all future guidance in exact length. When finally dressed, cut into lengths, and the ends of the middle rib filed down so as to enable the ends to pass and join upper or lower bout as the case may be, they being filed to fit, put your heating iron, fig. 5, and another iron to match, so that you will have a reserve of heat always on hand, into a bright, if possible smokeless, fire, and from one to the second of the heaters, get a good hot temperature--not scorching, be sure--and place a piece of brown paper over the narrow end of the heated tube. Then hold tool 64 in your right hand, middle rib in the left, and, with one end on the brown paper, the tool on that, very gently, cautiously, and by intuition, as it were, _feel_ your way to a sweet curve of upper corner, using the broad part of the iron for the lower. Of course, although I have not told you, you will have bent the wood _face to the mould_ for this centre, as the reverse for the outer, or larger ones, naturally. This done to your mind--do not be discouraged when I say I hope it _may_ be--for you have hot work before you in more ways than one--get to the sharp corner curves of both the other ribs, face against iron afterwards, inside against it. Mind, as is your true shape to mould, so will your ribs be when it comes to be attached to the back; and there is no patching or trickery allowed here; so do your best. After this, fix the three sections into the mould, and keep them in position by means of cramp 2, and the centre one with block 33, held firmly by cramp 11. Your corner blocks must be a trifle broader than the ribs, and about as wide as them--also from corner to inner surface, about one and a half inches. Cut and fit these nicely for future glueing, and then prepare and bend your pine for linings. This pine must be about five-sixteenths of an inch broad by about three-thirty-seconds of an inch thick, cut to taper for inner dressing either before or after fixing to ribs. These are not too easily bent, but not nearly so difficult as the ribs; but do not put on too much pressure, or snap is the result. It will be necessary to see carefully to the gradation of the depth of the ribs from one and a quarter inches to one and one-eighth of an inch, either when they spring from a whole length or from three separate ones. In any case, my advice is to mark the beginning and end of each section from the broad end to the narrow, Nos. 1 to 2, lower; 2 to 3, middle; 3 to 4, upper; so that you cannot well get wrong in bending, from which would spring the first cause of error. Having your glue somewhat thin but firm, at the point of setting, glue and clamp well your corner blocks (your mould being in the vice) and after that, remove the fitted wood block over the centre rib (it being now fast at both ends by means of the blocks just glued), and accurately fit the two small linings there, removing each end of said lining between block and rib, at either end, and, by first forcing half-inch chisel where the lining will have to go, as a sort of slot. This you must also do at the ends of all the other linings. Now glue the two small ones for centre and carefully fit and force them end by end into slots, finally placing wood block 33 over glued linings, and clamp firmly with cramp 11. The other four are much easier to fit and fix; small cramp 2 being used; but here you must always be sure of a perfect fit all over, or you will find when taken from the mould there will be apertures, Fig. 16. [Illustration: PLATE XVI.] When dry next day, and before you take from the mould, remove most of the cramps (one or two being left to keep the work fixed) and very neatly cut and clean all the work, as shown in figure of open instrument, and go about it in this manner:--the heavy corner blocks must be reduced with large gouge, and the linings made to fall away from their _full_ thickness at edge of ribs to fine union with said ribs at the extreme of their (the linings) width. After that, clean every atom of superfluous glue away, and finish off with two or even three courses of sandpaper, rough to fine. Then remove these so far finished ribs, and take the knife 19, being made by you exceedingly keen of edge, and square both edges all over, so accurately that, when they are glued later on to the back and belly, they shall fit and well, being jointed so that no aperture whatever is apparent. But, you will doubtless murmur, it is all very well to _say_ all this--please show us how to _do_ it all; for, on the face of it, this is no child's play. And you are right to speak out; for it is one of the most difficult points we have to master, and I fully intended to make it quite clear before leaving it. Hold the rib by left hand firmly to your breast, face side to you. Then take the knife 19, and cut away the superfluous linings and corner block wood, holding the steel absolutely square with the rib, or you will be all abroad. It is this squareness that is the severe test and your great trouble just now. Try on anything and on everything before you try it on a rib you may spoil; but _do_ it on something or other, and finally you will do it and well on these ribs. But, after cutting, you will have still more to do--lay them flat and keep them so and rigid with left hand whilst you, with rasp 47, fine side, level from one end to the other, _not from_ you across the rib, as the other way is safer for keeping square, and obviates the risk of tearing away part of a lining or slip from a corner block. You will have dressed the ribs at the outset as instructed; but you will now find them anything but fit to attach to the back; so trim and make them free from any blemish or stain of dirt, and then do your best to fit one side accurately, so that, when glued afterwards, there may be no discrepancies nor goings back. CHAPTER XII. FIXING RIBS, ETC. When you have attached the end blocks to the back, just the width of the ribs and the margin allowed when rib block was made firmly and without cramps, and dressed off next day, fit temporarily the set of ribs just made ready and clamp with the small wooden ones, as shown in fig. 17. You will have made both ends of rib somewhat longer than necessary, and, as they overlap, from inside mark where the top and bottom of linings are flush against blocks at each end. Then detach the rib, and cut away the small bit of lining as just marked. Then fit again, ribs going to end blocks now free, linings _flush_ with end blocks. If not neat in fitting all round, cut the least possible bit away still from linings, until all be perfect. Then square to the exact centre of broad end block, and cut it there; the other end is of no moment, as, so long as the rib is flush with the button, and allows the neck to be inserted neatly, all is right. I hope I have made all this sufficiently plain to you, as the process is of importance. You will gather my meaning best, I think, if you study fig. 18. [Illustration: PLATE XVII.] [Illustration: PLATE XVIII.] In fitting with glue you will now need some assistance. Damp the side of the back, upon which this first set of ribs has to go, with a sponge wrung out of hot water. Then carefully dab on the rib all over the edge to be glued, when your glue is hot, also at each end where it has to join the two end blocks. Then, with loose wood blocks, 66 and 67 to your hand, hold the glued side of the rib over the under part of your glue pot, and then rapidly get _all the parts glued_ well on to the back and end blocks where they are to be. Then fix the block 67 at the narrow end, and get your assistant to clamp it with tool 11--and the broad end with block 66, going to the small wood cramps for the rest of the fixing round the half of the instrument. See fig. 17. This does not seem to have a ring of difficulty about it: but it _is_ difficult--hedged around by it, but not, even to a nervous amateur or novice, insurmountable. Do all the work clean as lies in your power; have everything ready to your hand; act firmly as you can, and rapidly, whenever you have glueing in hand, and the result, be sure, will be in accordance. The second set of ribs is treated in every respect as the foregoing. Every particle of superfluous glue must now be removed, in and out, and from the inside any ridges round by the ribs, and all smooth, level, and open to inspection now, as in the course of years it is all sure to be; for no instrument is so liable to damage as the fiddle, and _you_ never know into what studio your beloved one may go, or by whom it will be criticised. And apart from this latter consideration, pride in your own work and love of truth ought, and I hope will, actuate to noble effort; but mind, do not overrate what is done, in your pride of heart, for those into whose hands it will come later will assuredly not do so. When you have cut out the slot at the narrow end into which, later, the neck has to be glued, and made the end blocks level for the belly to rest perfectly, you have practically finished the body of the violin. But I must first tell you how to set about cutting the groove at the end of the instrument, into which the neck has to be inserted. You will note (fig. 19) outline of scroll and form of pattern by which you will be guided in cutting groove for neck insertion. This latter is one and nine-sixteenths of an inch deep--one and seven-sixteenths of an inch broad, tapering to bare one inch at junction with the button. Place it accurately with the instrument, mark with sharp tool, then cut out as you see it is done by me (plate 18). [Illustration: PLATE XIX.] After this, with brace 29, inserting brace bit 37 at position 28, make a clean cut hole in centre of broad end of violin for the end pin later; and when I have inserted the label, the putting on of the belly is my next work. As many of you doubtless know, I am credited with a fad as regards this label business. But I do not see why I should be, seeing that so many frauds have been perpetrated in relation to old instruments, aye, and to new ones--my own not excepted. If I write with my own hand all that is written on all labels appearing in my violins, etc., and choose to give each one a name, and register every one in a book specially prepared for reference in the long future, a consecutive number being noted in each in private mark, where is the fad? Will it not be utterly impossible under this system to pass off anything spurious? I think so: and am sure the whole world would to-day be only too glad if the old masters had been silly (?) enough to have fads of a similar nature. CHAPTER XIII. FIXING THE BELLY. The label being fixed with thin glue, and all being in order, see that your cramps, both of iron and wood, and accessories, are all well to your hand, for this is a process where quick action is imperative. Your glue must be hot, and about the same consistency as when the ribs were fixed; and broad pieces of stiff cork must be procured, because the pressure of cramp 11 on back and belly at both ends will necessitate these safeguards. In the first place, temporarily fix the belly, making as accurate a piece of work of it as you can, exact in overlapping as is the back, if possible. Then get your assistant to clamp it here and there with the wooden cramps, as fig. 17. Afterwards, pierce each end of belly with a bit about three-thirty-seconds of an inch, three-eighths of an inch deep through the table into each end block. Then remove cramps, and, into the holes in said table, fix a small pine peg, about as will just drive home when all is fixed and glued. Now, wet with a hot sponge all the belly where junction with the ribs has to take place, and then dab a nice layer of your hot glue all round the ribs and end blocks, going over it a second time rapidly, and finally holding every part glued for a second over the hot water under your glue pot. It is urgent that the pegs are then inserted into the holes mentioned above, and that you at once force them home with the smart blow of a hammer, when your assistant begins to clamp as you direct; for there may be parts where a little humoring of either rib or belly will tax your ingenuity, so as to make a neat fit. Then, when all are on fairly well, clamp the ends with the iron cramps, having the blocks of cork to intercept, as spoken of above. (See fig. 20). [Illustration: PLATE XX.] When the glue is dry and hard, on the following day you must clean all of it away that is showing and superfluous, and use gouges, 52, 54, 22, chisel 21, scrapers 26, 62. Any _cutting_ of the wood is objectionable; but if there _must_ be a trifle taken away from some part of the ribs to make a bad fit nearer a good one, then be certain to make all smooth with scraper and sandpaper, over and over again, or your work will be uneven at the finish; and your varnish is a terrible shower-up of bad work, my masters. Following the above is the careful rounding of the edges of under and upper tables with files and glass-paper, as previously shown on the inner edges of the back and belly. Not too broad must this be done, or the somewhat sharp edge which you seek (or should seek) to bring neatly along the centre of the edge, as it were, of a small wave, doubtful whether to curl over on to the body of the violin or not, will lose much in form, and the grace intended be negative, if not utterly lost when under the eye of the connoisseur. When this is all done, and the corners left beautifully square, save that the sharpness of the terminals are just a little rounded off (not the two points--these must not be touched) wet all you have gone over with a sponge, and clean when dry with No. 0 sandpaper, until you are sure your work will do you credit under the varnish, when you arrive at that stage. Before that, however, we have to consider the cutting of the scroll. CHAPTER XIV. THE SCROLL. On plate 19 you will find the outline of a scroll I use generally. I will employ the original from which this was taken now, and mark on a piece of old sycamore the exact representation of it. The thickness of the wood must be one and eleven-sixteenths of an inch, ten inches in length--and broad enough to allow the outline to be properly cut for further operation. After I get this cut exactly by a band saw, I place the outline on the wood cut for the scroll, and with a sharp-pointed, hard pencil, prick the holes where the volute has to come on to the sides, both of them. After that, on the face of the wood--that is to say, the front, as though looking at the fingerboard, I mark at four-and-a-quarter inches from end of the head, which is to be the end of peg-box, and three inches from that, the narrow end of said box that is to be cut. Then I take centre of narrow end and mark off seven-sixteenths of an inch--width of said end, five-eighths of an inch for broad end. Then at five and five-eighths of an inch from broad end of peg-box, I take centre of extreme end of wood, here to be one and three-eighths of an inch when ready for the fingerboard afterwards, and I divide it, making a distinctive mark as to breadth and centre. Then, allowing full three-sixteenths of an inch for cheeks of peg-box, I draw two lines, one on either side of centre line, from end of wood to head, so that I just shall catch outer side of each cheek of peg-box that is to be, and which, running on to where crosses the nose of the scroll, gives a width there of bare nine-sixteenths of an inch. Afterwards I mark the three-sixteenths for cheeks of peg-box. This is all I can mark at present, until I cut with the saw and with the chisels, as shown (figs. 21 and 22), I can now trace lines ready for manipulation of the volutes and the fluting. That of the volutes is my first business. The lines denoting the ascending spirals, and the pencil dots not yet touched, are my guides, and, with small hand saw, No. 30, I cut very carefully, by a dot at a time just low enough to touch the spiral line at its junction, cutting the bit away sideways, of course, just by the said line, and then a small piece more, until I arrive at the end of where the spiral ceases, at its base; but now that the volute is developing, I am enabled to complete the line, which brings the whole to its actual junction with the mainspring of conception. This, in a very great state of roughness, I show at an angle (fig. 23), and I reverse the sides, cutting the other in the same manner. It is necessary to have the wood firmly cramped to the bench on all occasions. [Illustration: PLATE XXI.] [Illustration: PLATE XXII.] [Illustration: PLATE XXIII.] I now select gouges 57, 24, 22, 43, 39, 50, and I carefully trim both spirals, gauging the front and rear levels as I proceed by one-eighth of an inch at a time, until I can find no fault, all being square to the eye (for by nothing else can you prove your work here) when I prepare to cut the trench which was only wanted to soften off this essential to beauty. Here I use all the gouges marked above; and in doing so I have to be most careful not to FORCE any one part; for such is the brittle nature of the wood (sycamore) that the delicate edges, as the slender spiral ascends under your, perhaps, too eager hand, may not be able to bear the strain put upon them, and a breach stares you in the face, past remedy, save by an accomplished master of his art. The next step is to soften the work done, and to smooth down with rough to fine glass-paper, wetting every part after each course. Then I cut off all the sharp _outer_ edges, from the terminal of the back part of the whole to the top of each volute, this cutting to be a good one-sixteenth of an inch broad, neatly filing and sandpapering the same when done. The outer edge of the peg-box is done in like manner. Fixing the wood now, face downwards on the bench, I begin the cutting of the fluting at the upper part, using gouges 57, 24, 22, just in the order in which I write them, obviously the terminal part being that which needs most attention and care. Reversing the wood, I cut down by the nose of the head to the broad grooves which soon appear, terminating just over the narrow end of peg-box. All should be done neatly,--in a masterly manner were better--I file and sandpaper over and over again until I get to my mind what now appears in plates 24 and 25, and you will see the neck end is finished, ready for insertion in the mortice, which is done later when the fingerboard is added. [Illustration: PLATE XXIV.] [Illustration: PLATE XXV.] CHAPTER XV. FIXING NECK, FINGERBOARD, ETC. As this neck and mortice business is very difficult of manipulation, I will direct you how to cut the end of neck so that a perfect fit may be obtained in the body of violin where was cut the mortice previously, fig. 19, into which said neck has to be inserted. To the exact outline of this I now cut the neck end, one and three-eighths of an inch broad at top, one and three-sixteenths of an inch at bottom, and one and nine-sixteenths of an inch deep. I cut on an angle, so as to get the elevation required for correct height of bridge. And then, all being square, I slope to the end which is ultimately to be joined to the button. You will gather all this from plates of scroll. To obtain the peg holes, I mark at certain distances a guiding point, through which, at one side E and A, and on the other G and D, I bore preliminary holes with hand bit No. 12 (on tool plate), square, absolutely, through to the other cheek of peg-box. After all are done, in brace bit 29, position 28, I place taper bit 59, and cut, E, A, D, G, finishing approximately for pegs with tool 15. [Illustration: PLATE XXVI.] Then, before I fix the neck into the violin, I attach the fingerboard and nut--the latter in rough ebony, as I always work this neater with some wood over and above what I want. This fingerboard must be perfect in fit, put on with very hot, thin glue, and well cramped with three No. 11 cramps, having wood guard 31 over fingerboard for protection. When set and hard next day, I prepare the end incision for the neck to enter, and proper elevation of the ebony, so that the correct angle for a bridge of fair average height may be obtained. I give you what is a fair average height--one and three-eighths of an inch; but there is no absolute _rule_ as to this. What is here given is that which will suit the instrument just made, as I know by many constructed on similar lines. This height is got when the bridge is held down by the strings, and the measurement is from belly to middle of the arch of the bridge. Your fingerboard must be at such an angle when the neck is fixed, that the end of it near bridge must measure exactly thirteen-sixteenths of an inch from belly to top of ebony; by this means your bridge, as described, will be just a nice height for clean fingering of the strings. This brings me to fixing the neck, and I do it thus:--In the first place, I have to remember that the length from nut on the fingerboard, inner side, to the bridge, must be, when all is finished, thirteen inches exactly, and the angle as above. So I have to be _very_ careful that too much is not taken out of the slot I have to finish, either in width or inner recess, as that, one or the other, would necessitate lowering the neck end, which is not what I want to do. First the knife, then the files (coarse ones), and, little by little, I get nearer and nearer to a fit, when I try angle and the straightness of the whole with the fiddle, using compasses to measure from inner point of purfling, upper corner, to corner of fingerboard on corresponding side, with their exact counterparts on the other; and testing height of fingerboard from belly. This is very weary work, and _must_ be quite correctly done, or--well you will either hear of it again in words, or _see_ your failure in the sweet smile which is more detestable than the severest frown. But all is at length right; the neck is forced home, and I mark round the button, on to the superfluous wood of neck, its curve, so that I may not cut beyond when I thin the neck to its proper and final shape and thickness. Many of you will, doubtless, be players of the fiddle, and to such, good, bad or indifferent, I need hardly say how much the disposition and general character of the neck of your instrument influences your performance on it. It is obviously quite impossible to lay down any rule or law, as to depth, width, or the curve at the end terminating at the button, for some will have this latter thin and abrupt, others less so, whilst a few insist on its being thick. If people only knew how much the strength of the neck has to do with the tone of the instrument, they would leave to the maker or expert to determine what was best for it, either in the original making of the violin or in placing a new neck in an old one. But it is _convenience_--what we like and what we _will have_; so, in consequence, suffers the tone of the instrument. You have a violin thick in wood: if I find on it a neck also heavy in material, to a certainty I have to register thin, woody tone; whereas, given a thinner neck there would be more vibration in it, and an undoubted impetus would be given to the somewhat inert body of the violin--its heavy timber being too much for the mass of air, which acts its part in that it moves in response to compulsion, but fails, in producing so feeble an agitation of the whole wood. But, on the other hand, I find a thin neck attached to a thin body, and I also find a whole pack of wolves, hollow, rasping tone, and difficult of production--in fact, a wretched fiddle. Then, as to width of fingerboard--a narrow one is often clung to as "so nice and handy," etc., but it is forgotten that the strings in consequence have to be brought closer together than clean fingering requires; and, moreover, the E string must, of necessity, be brought too near the edge of the ebony for firm stopping; so I have no sympathy whatever with a narrow or too thin fingerboard and neck. But I have to work away at the rough neck after having traced the outline of the button upon the under end of it--not the _actual_ shape of this necessity, but such as will serve as a guide to one of more grace. Added to that, I roughly mark the shape and thickness of the wood up to which I have to cut away, to insure nice handling. To this line I cut with bow saw 68; and I then use all the knives I have, and many files--rasps in the early stages--until I get to the _shape_ I want, after which I wet with a sponge, renewing the work when dry with finer files and glass-paper, No. 1-1/2, making a second stage, then wet again, to two more stages, when all _should_ be very clean and nice. Of course, I round the fingerboard's edges somewhat, and clean on each occasion of wetting. When finished, the neck should measure round thick end (one and a half inches from extreme end of wood), three and a half inches; and round thin end (one inch from peg-box) three inches. This finishes the neck, which is now ready for insertion in the violin. I have, above, treated of this: I now do it actually. I have wood guard 31 ready for protection of fingerboard, and 32, for the back, and one of No. 11 cramps. I dab the neck and the cutting with hot strong glue, and gently work them together, until the glue oozes out at all points, when I put on the wood guards and clamp hard. Then I wash the superfluous glue away with a sponge wrung out of hot water, after I have tested whether I have got in the neck straight and at its correct angle. (See fig. 27.) [Illustration: PLATE XXVII.] But there is the neat finishing off of the neck and button, which I attend to carefully, when all is set hard on the following day, paying much heed to grace and _character_ here, as it is a part of the fiddle which cries out at once if slovenly, or ungainly, or the _least bit_ out of line or centre. And I fashion the nut over which the tail-piece gut has to stretch, and cut the bed into which it is glued. Then I very carefully wash the violin all over with a clean sponge wrung out of _warm_ water, giving it plenty of time to dry before I finally clean every part thoroughly with No. 0 glass-paper--and the violin is finished in the white. [Illustration: PLATE XXVIII.] [Illustration: PLATE XXIX.] [Illustration: PLATE XXX.] CHAPTER XVI. OF VARNISH AND VARNISHING. To write an exhaustive essay on this most absorbing subject before us, to go into any manner of detail at all in the present work, is not my intention. It is far too wide, too subtle, and, in my opinion, is an art of itself, requiring not only great space in which to voice its merits, its component parts, and the thousand and one compounds in which those parts assimilate, but the calm of the study rather than the bustle of the workshop, given out deliberately by him whose conclusions are based on the sound issues arising from momentous research, careful analysis of former old examples, and an utter abhorrence of prejudice, for or against this or that compound or colour--prejudice, mind, actuating choice. But in continuation, though somewhat in parenthesis, a choice based on determined observation of a matter is quite another thing; and I tell you at once my experience as between spirit and oil varnish condemns the former, whilst it very strongly advocates the latter; and when one considers that it is in the nature of oil to assimilate with wood, and to throw up its beauties, and whilst a mellowness clings to the very name, the reverse on all points being the case with spirit, the surprise is that varnish other than of oil should be tolerated. Besides, see the difference in wear. Use a violin coated with spirit, and if the friction from its employment be severe, you have cracks, pieces chipping here and there, the instrument getting barer and barer daily, so that in time little of it, the varnish, is left. But it is not so with oil; the wear _is_ wear, not in chips, but in gradual diminishing of its substance, always a something being left; added to which a beauty springs from such, in that softer gradations of colour radiate and form a greater _depth_, from the fact of such colour or colours being more readily absorbed. Again, in their relations to Tone, I place the oil varnishes first; and I think the point is pretty generally conceded, for what is on the face _power_, which some attribute to the brittle, assertive nature of the gums hardened by alcohol, is not in reality such, but often aggressive noise, losing itself the more you retreat from it, leaving real tone little to say for itself. But coat the violin with oil; you certainly cannot complain of loud, rasping responses to the call of the bow, whilst you _can_ make some assertion as to quality. And, remember, as the soft nature of the oil assumes a harder tendency day by day, so will increase the sonority of the tones, whilst retaining the beauty of character with which they began. Therefore, I shall draw your attention to the use of oil varnish, utterly discarding that of spirit. But to _what_ oil varnish is not my present purpose; why should I seek to close the door on research and on experiment? It is for you, students, to take home, each one of you, the lesson of the mighty failure of thousands gone before you, in inability to bring to a finish that upon which they have spent so many anxious hours, and do something different and better. It is my intention to teach you, step by step, how to lay on what you prepare for the brush: but _not_ to say "get this or that oil," or "this or that colour," except in the abstract--red, orange, amber, yellow, etc., etc., being names only. I say this at once so that there may be no mistake--so that none can say _I_ use this or that: my own varnish and colouring _are_ my own solely, and I reserve the secret for the benefit of my family, should it prove of value after my career be ended. Fashion a piece of wood so that it fits easily into the hole at the end of the violin in which, later, the end pin is inserted. It must have a rough sort of handle, because by it you will hold the instrument when you have occasion otherwise than by the neck; for you must on no account touch the wood before you varnish, nor afterwards, with your hands, nor must you allow others to do so, when, in your pardonable pride of heart, you show your creation to your friends. With a clean sponge, wrung out of tepid water, and a camel-hair brush for parts where the sponge will not be of service, go all over your violin, but do not wet it heavily--far from it; and when quite dry, on the slightly roughened surface thus left, place a yellow or amber coating of turpentine, thoroughly mixing with it a little of the oil varnish selected by you along with your colouring matter as you arrange, yellow or amber. To do this well, and for future use, you must have half to one inch flat camel-hair and fine hog-hair brushes. A round hog-hair brush, medium size, is good for this initial coating (some call it sizing; but I think this is misleading--"size" being generally understood to bear reference to glue, and we want none of _that_ under varnish.) This should be dry in about two or three days, when you may lay on a second course, less turpentine and rather more varnish; also less yellow and a _very_ little red. This will take somewhat longer to dry, and please observe that the more varnish (if it be oil and gum, pure and simple) so much longer it will be in drying; and, as you advance to the final stage, you will gradually discard the turpentine altogether, as you will the yellow, colouring at last with red only. As you advance step by step, and before you venture on another layer, with the tip of your finger test the varnish, and if there be the _least tackiness_, wait a day or two until all be dry. And as a roughness is bound to show itself as stage after stage is passed, it is well to smooth down each course when dry with fine No. 0 glass-paper upon which is first spread a _drop_ of pure Lucca oil, which, of course, must be lightly applied to the body of varnish, and the whole carefully wiped with clean linen or silk handkerchief afterwards. Now, after the first two coats, you must use about a three-quarter inch fine hog-hair brush (not many hairs in, mind) and for the later coats one with camel hair. Sit on a low chair, have the light to your right hand, the varnish before you handy, not too high. The violin is held by neck, left hand of course; the stick at the broad end through the hole where comes later the end pin (see above) rests on your right leg as you sit. Get a fair dip of varnish in your brush, but NEVER flood it; and beginning carefully under the fingerboard, first one side, then the other, working the top sides of the instrument also alternately, until the soundholes be reached, when inside these cuts must be neatly coloured, after which you just tip your brush with the varnish, neatly continuing where you leave off, so that none can see a break in your progress. This advice applies until ribs and scroll be all done after the belly and the back. I have ever found the upper table the most exacting and difficult; but, once again, _never flood your brush_, and you will varnish sooner or later. But never _hurry_: and this advice applies to every thing you do in the construction of the violin. Patience of no ordinary character you must exercise; if you have it not it will come to you, but through experience alone, through failures, through catastrophes innumerable. But what then? These things that have mastered you stand mastered in turn in the excellent result of to-day, so let yesterday go to the wall. Now that we can consider the operation of varnishing at an end, the instrument is hung on a wire, free to the warm dry air of a room or to a passage where a current of it is circulating. When hard (and there is no actual time to gauge this by) prepare to finish off and rub down the whole; and care must be observed that no scratch appears, for a surface looks bad, very bad, with anything of this sort to mar its beauty. The first essential in this process is pure Lucca oil, which does not clagg; and the next, specially prepared pumice stone powder, which _must_ be as fine as flour; and should there be any doubt about its being absolutely free from specks of grit, filter it through fine muslin or silk, and only use that which passes through, in water. Then take some brown paper and make a pad, rubbing on oil and a sprinkling of the pumice stone powder, when you can go over portions of the back, very lightly feeling your way to see whether all works smoothly and no scratch in the operation. If this be so, continue on these lines, sparingly adding more powder, but freely using the oil. You can, to smooth off, use saturated rag (oiled) and after that, a dry pad of very fine muslin or silk. The belly is tedious, more so than the back, and the ribs still more so. Contrivances to get into corners and curves of the latter, you will have to resort to, such as small pieces of paper, and pumice stone and oil, and oiled fine glass-paper, and finely rubbed pieces of curved wood, with which you can operate to smooth near edges of ribs, etc. All _can_ be done well, all _must_ be done well; for, remember, there is to be no French rubbish (polish, I mean), on the top of this oil varnish, but your hand must finally bring up its lustre, as I can show you mine has so frequently brought to a rich glow that preparation made and used by me, on my own work only. CHAPTER XVII. FITTING UP FOR USE. This last of many complicated and difficult stages must be entered upon with a will, and great attention paid to all details. The fittings used must be of the best, and the strings rough Roman, and must be tested to see if they vibrate truly. This is done by twanging, so that _two distinct outlines_ are shown; if any dimness appear, or the lines wobble, as I may say, try again, for such are false. Not always, though; for I _have_ known this rule (for it _is_ a rule) falsified, and a good string _appear_ untrue by test, and _vice versa_. Take the Rimer, 15, and work out the peg-holes nicely; then fit ebony or rosewood pegs as you fancy, cutting off the superfluous pieces which obtrude on the off-side of peg-box. Apply a little soap and chalk to ensure close working when tuning. Then on the nut, cut the narrow channels over which the strings have to pass to the fingerboard. A nice discrimination must be observed here as to the width from E to A to D to G. There can be no rule laid down, because some players will have them nearer together than others, and must, if for double stopping, they having narrow fingers; and on the contrary, wider apart, if for broader ended fingers. What I find a nice medium is seven-thirty-seconds of an inch from the bottom of one slot to another. Take the compass and divide to seven-thirty-seconds of an inch and press one point at G, D, A, E, allowing a fair margin at both sides of the ebony, not above, say one-eighth of an inch good. Then use either of the rat tail files, 27, and carefully file to depths required, which must be so as to allow a playing card to slip comfortably under the E string when taut, a little more space for the other three being necessary, especially the G. Rub a black lead pencil through the cuts, and work them very smooth with a thin, round piece of steel, which makes all the strings much easier to slide afterwards and minimises breakage. The nut must then be filed and sandpapered nicely down to the cuts, so as to leave only a shallow passage, as one too deep retards free action of the string and somewhat of vibration, besides making the fingering less satisfactory. The ends or sides must be made beautifully even with the neck and rounded and papered off so that not an atom of friction worries the player, who has often worry enough in all conscience in the work of correct manipulation before him, without the hindrance of bad work on his instrument. Then we come to the bridge--with two feet, not more my friends; the dear old fiddle has managed these three or four hundred years to crawl along _very_ respectably as a biped: _I_ shall have nothing whatever to do with turning him into a quadruped, be assured. The importance of the quality and of the correct height, thickness, etc., etc., of this most essential adjunct, cannot be too seriously impressed upon all who seek to get from the violin they are fitting up the strongest and the best quality of tone possible; and, unless the clever amateur be sufficiently so to do it as it should be and can be done by an expert, my advice to him is, do not attempt it as a work of finality--_try_ to do it properly and persevere, and I will help you. But do not show me with pride work to which attaches nothing but condemnation; too thick at top and bottom--feet clumsy to a degree--too high or too low--badly arranged for clean bowing on separate strings, and too deep or too shallow in the cuts for them. What does it matter to me if only a few or but one of these faults be apparent? the bridge is not perfect, and perfect it must be made, so I proceed to the consideration of the work to be done to make it so. Select a fine, strong, light bridge by either Aubert or Panpi--the former by preference. In using the names of these deservedly popular makers, I mean, of course, either _Aubert_ or _Panpi_, and the bridges wrought in their workshops, not the nasty imitations we are compelled to see sometimes, but which, rather than use, we would go a day's journey to avoid. Pare the feet down to about one thirty-second of an inch (this when fitted finally) and proceed to make as accurate a union of these feet with the belly as you can, as it is most important that such should be the case. Then measure the height of this bridge, from belly to its top at centre, as one and five-sixteenths of an inch, nicely curving it so that ease of bowing is obtained, as spoken of before. This curvature should be unequal in height--or, rather, to express it better, the height on the G side should be so that, at the broad end of the fingerboard, the space _between_ the ebony and the string will be a quarter of an inch, reducing as we get to the E, which registers about one-sixteenth of an inch less, or three-sixteenths of an inch. This is a guide, and a good mean to work on, but not a rule, as some people cannot play except the strings are near to the board, others just the reverse. As to the distance between the strings, where they pass over the bridge, this is also a point somewhat of controversy, and applies, as do my remarks in reference to the fingerboard nut--there is no rule; but a very useful mean distance is seven-sixteenths of an inch. When you have got the angle correct, mark with the compasses where the incisions are to be made with tool 27 round, rat tail file, and work the cuts accordingly, about as deep as the file where it tapers one-third from its point. Then reduce the bridge in thickness from its feet upwards--very sparingly at these feet, but tapering to pretty thin at the top, say a bare sixteenth of an inch. The reduction must be made by rubbing on sandpaper, and a clean, straight tapering effected, as a bridge, where you can discern a round-backed slope, is bad--looks so and is. When fitted and completed, the bridge must be as near perpendicular as possible; if there be any inclination, it must tend to the tailpiece, and _very_ slightly, thus checking the certain tendency of the strings to pull it forward, which must be always closely watched, as if it fall on the belly of the violin, it is most liable to break--not only so, but to crack that same soundboard. The outer edges may be either filed to an angle of one-sixteenth of an inch bare, or neatly rounded. The soundpost must engage your closest attention, and must be of old Swiss pine. There is, again, no rule as to thickness--some violins do best with a thick, others with medium to thin post. I only tell you for guidance, a medium to thin is mostly used by me. It must be evenly rounded, and both ends filed so that the angles of back and belly may fit exactly when it is placed inside. To get the _exact_ length is not an easy matter; but you will find this hint useful: with a thin piece of wood gauge the depth through the upper hole of the soundhole from the back to the _outer_ surface of the belly, and your post will have to be a trifle longer than this, _minus_ the thickness of the belly. Then take a soundpost setter and fix the pointed end into the wood, sloping sides towards you, of course, and do your best to place this most exacting, but most necessary adjunct, just behind the centre of the foot of the bridge on the E side--the distance of about a good sixteenth of an inch behind the side next to the tail piece. When fitted, it must be neither slack nor tight, but between the two. Of course, this operation will be, to the novice, a horrible job: he will fume and he will perspire, and, I fear, he will use strong language--none of which will help him, but on the contrary, will retard progress. The thing has to be done, and done well; and it would be much better if the amateur _cannot_ do it ultimately, to pay an expert for timely instruction. Then fit the end pin, but, before doing so, look through the hole in which it has to go and ascertain if the post inside be straight--which is very necessary to the good ordering of pure tone. Regulate with the broad end of the setter, and draw or push through the soundhole on either side, as may be necessary. And when you have nicely gauged and secured by single knobs the tail-gut to the tailpiece, the instrument is finished excepting the neck, the polishing of which we will now consider. With constant handling you will find this neck dirty and greasy. Wash it well with a sponge, and when dry, colour with a yellow water or spirit wash. Do not sandpaper at all yet; but make a nice orange-coloured spirit varnish, and place neatly over the yellow three or four coats. When thoroughly hard, clean it down with No. 0 sandpaper soaked in Lucca oil, smooth, and ready for the hand. CHAPTER XVIII. CONCLUSION. Then, my friends, reward your many anxious moments of thought and work--string your fiddle, for, be assured, you _will_ be rewarded, be your instrument somewhat crude in tone; and he is of a miserably cold, prosaic temperament indeed, who does not warm up at this juncture--this climax, this crisis. It may be the tone is good, very good; with what pride it is shown and tried; should it be mediocre, or even poor, a certain amount of pride is excusable, and faults are condoned. Should there be faults that a touch of the soundpost may minimise, gently touch it, moving it hither and thither, until it meets with a desired response. Or your strings may be too thick or too thin; all may be of no avail, however, so work the fiddle for six months, and note if it shows signs of improvement; if not, look well to your construction next time, and build for posterity on early _failures_, on disappointments after long study and careful manipulation, or resolve to be master, after hearing your praiseworthy devotion rewarded by the empty sneers of those who, maybe, care nothing whatever whether you do ill or well, but only that they have the chance of showing their superior wisdom and making stagnant that which, given warm encouragement, would have flowed on until the future would proudly record the noble work of real genius. THE END. NOTE.--The writer wishes gratefully to record the very able assistance given by Mr. Barrett, of 131, Oxford Road, Manchester, in his most careful rendering of the various stages of the foregoing work in photography, from which blocks have been made. ADVERTISEMENTS. TWENTIETH YEAR OF ISSUE. _The Largest Circulation in the World of any paper amongst Violinists._ THE STRAD _A Monthly Journal for Professionals and Amateurs of all Stringed Instruments played with the Bow_. Published on the First of every Month. Price 2d. Annual Subscription, Post Free, 2s. 6d. Foreign Subscription, Post Free, 3s. THE STRAD is the only recognised organ of the string family and has subscribers in every country of the civilised world. Our circulation has increased to so great an extent that we are enabled to engage as contributors THE LEADING WRITERS in the VIOLIN WORLD. THE STRAD contains technical articles by the leading artists. THE STRAD, in the answers to Correspondents column, gives minute information by Experts on every detail connected with the Violin. THE STRAD gives all the important doings of Violinists at home and abroad all the year round. THE STRAD gives early critical notices of all important New Music for Stringed Instruments with numbers to show the grade of difficulty of every piece. THE STRAD gives every month beautifully-executed Portraits, on fine art paper, of leading celebrities in the Violin world, together with biographical sketches. Specimen Copy. 2-1/2d., Post Free. All Subscriptions, Advertisements, etc., to be addressed to the Manager, HARRY LAVENDER, 3, Green Terrace, Rosebery Avenue, London, E.C. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. I. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ _"THE STRAD" LIBRARY EDITION is the only Authorised Edition of_ Technics of Violin Playing ON JOACHIM'S METHOD BY CARL COURVOISIER, With Folding Plates, containing Fifteen Illustrations. LETTER FROM DR. JOACHIM. [COPY.] MY DEAR MR. COURVOISIER: I have read the book on Violin Playing you have sent me, and have to congratulate you sincerely on the manner in which you have performed a most difficult task, _i.e._, to describe the best way of arriving at a correct manner of playing the violin. It cannot but be welcome to thoughtful teachers, who reflect on the method of our art, and I hope that your work will prove useful to many students. Believe me, my dear Mr. Courvoisier, to be most faithfully yours, JOSEPH JOACHIM. Berlin, November 3rd, 1894. The New and Revised Edition of "Technics of Violin Playing," issued by THE STRAD, is the only authorised edition of my work. The several English Editions which have all appeared without my knowledge are _incomplete_ and _faulty_. CARL COURVOISIER. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. II. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ HOW TO STUDY THE VIOLIN By J. T. CARRODUS. CONTENTS. Strings and Tuning. The Bow and Bowing. Faults and their Correction. Scales and their Importance. Course of Study. Advice on Elementary Matters. Concerning Harmonics, Octaves, etc. Orchestral Playing. Some Experiences as a Soloist. With full page portraits of Carrodus, Molique, Paganini, Spohr, Sivori, De Beriot, Blagrove and Sainton, and a photo-reproduction of Dr. Spohr's testimonial to Carrodus. "An interesting series of articles 'How to Study the Violin,' which Carrodus contributed to THE STRAD, and completed only a week or two before his death, have now been collected in cheap book form. The technical hints to violin students, which are practical, plainly worded, and from such a pen most valuable."--_Daily News_. "But a few weeks before his sudden death the most distinguished of native violinists completed in THE STRAD a series of chats to students of the instrument associated with his name. These chats are now re-issued, with a sympathetic preface and instructive annotations. All who care to listen to what were virtually the last words of such a conscientious teacher will recognise the pains taken by Carrodus to render every detail as clear to the novice as to the advanced pupil. Pleasant gossip concerning provincial festivals at which Carrodus was for many years 'leader' of the orchestra, ends a little volume worthy a place in musical libraries both for its practical value and as a memento of the life-work of an artist universally esteemed."--_Daily Chronicle_. "It is surely, hardly necessary to direct the attention of students to the unique value of the hints and advice given by so experienced and accomplished a virtuoso as the late Mr. Carrodus, so that it only remains to state that the 'Recollections' make delightful reading, and that the book, as a whole, is as entertaining as it is instructive. The value of the _brochure_ is enhanced by an excellent portrait of Mr. Carrodus, as well as of a number of other violin worthies, and the printing, paper, and get up generally are good as could possibly be."--_Musical Answers_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. III. _Crown 8vo., Cloth 2/6, Post Free 2/9._ THE BOW Its History, Manufacture and Use BY HENRY SAINT-GEORGE. With Full Page Illustrations (exact size) by Photo Process. MONS. EMILE SAURET writes--"I have read it with great interest, and think that it supplies a real want in giving musicians such an excellent description of all matters referring to this important instrument." SIGNOR GUIDO PAPINI writes--"Thanks so much for your splendid and interesting book. You are quite successful and all the artists and amateurs are indebted to you for a so exact and correct a '_Texte_' on the subject." ADOLF BRODSKY writes--"I am delighted with the book and find it very instructive, even for those who think to know everything about the bow. It is very original and at times very amusing. No violinist should miss the opportunity to buy it." THE TIMES.--"A useful treatise on the Bow, in which the history, manufacture and use of the bow are discussed with considerable technical knowledge." DAILY TELEGRAPH.--"To the student there is much of interest in the work, which has the advantage of being copiously illustrated." DAILY NEWS.--"This book seems practically to exhaust its subject." "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. IV. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 5/-, Post Free, 5/4._ CELEBRATED VIOLINISTS: PAST AND PRESENT, _Translated from the German of_ A. EHRLICH, _And Edited with Notes and Additions by_ ROBIN H. LEGGE. _WITH EIGHTY-NINE PORTRAITS_. PRESS NOTICES. "Those who love their fiddles better than their fellows, and who treasure up every detail that can be found and recorded about their favourite and cherished players, will not fail to provide themselves with a copy of this book."--_Musical Opinion_. "This book of 280 pages is a most interesting and valuable addition to the violinist's library. It contains 89 biographical sketches of well-known artists, ancient and modern, of all nations. This is not intended to be a perfect dictionary of violinists; the aim of the Editor of the present volume being merely to give a few more up-to-date details concerning some of the greatest of stringed instrument players, and we must concede that no name of the first importance has been omitted. Germany is represented by 21 names, Italy by 13, France by 10, England by 4, Bohemia by 8, Belgium by 7, and the fair sex by seven well-known ladies, such as Teresina Tua, Therése and Marie Milanollo, Lady Hallé, Marie Soldat, Gabrielle Wietrowetz, and Arma Senkrah. Altogether this is most agreeable reading to the numerous army of violinists, both professionals and amateurs, and after careful examination we can find nothing but praise for this translation into English of a book well known on the Continent."--_The Piano, Organ and Music Trades Journal_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. V. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ TECHNICS OF VIOLONCELLO PLAYING BY E. VAN DER STRAETEN. COPIOUSLY ILLUSTRATED. _Copy of Letter received by the Author from the great 'cellist, SIGNOR ALFRED PIATTI._ Cadenabbia, Lake of Como, March 9th, 1898. DEAR SIR,--I received the book you kindly sent me on "The Technics of Violoncello Playing," which I found excellent, particularly for beginners, which naturally was your scope. With many thanks for kindly remembering an old ex-violoncello player. Believe me, yours sincerely, ALFRED PIATTI. _Copy of Letter received by the Author from the eminent 'cellist, HERR DAVID POPPER._ Budapest, February 22nd, 1898. DEAR SIR,--In sending me your book on "The Technics of Violoncello Playing" you have given me a real and true pleasure. I know of no work, tutors and studies not excepted, which presents so much valuable material, so much that is absolutely to the point, avoiding--I might say, on principle--all that is superfluous and dispensable. Every earnest thinking violoncello student will in future make your book his own and thereby receive hints which will further and complete the instructions of his master. I congratulate you and ourselves most heartily on the new violoncello book. With kind regards, Yours most sincerely, DAVID POPPER. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. VI. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free 2/9._ VIOLIN PLAYING BY JOHN DUNN. CONTENTS INTRODUCTORY--Qualities indispensable to the ideal Violinist--Hints on the Choice of a Teacher--Some Tricks of pretending professors exposed. ON THE CHOICE OF A VIOLIN AND BOW--Advice regarding general adjustment and repairs. ON THE CHOICE OF STRINGS--Stringing the Instrument and keeping the Pegs in Order. ON THE GENERAL POSTURE--The manner of holding the Violin and Bow as accepted by the leading artists of the day. ON FINGERING GENERALLY--The various positions--Scales recommended--The Modern Orchestral "Principal" or (so-called) Leader. ON GLIDING--Special Characteristics of some of the most Eminent Players. DOUBLE STOPPING--The main difficulty in Double Stopping--How to gain Independence of Finger. BOWINGS--Smooth Bowings--Solid Staccato--Spiccato--Spring Bow--Mixed Bowings. TONE PRODUCTION--Character of Tone--Rules and Conditions necessary to produce a good tone--Style and Expression. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. VII. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ Chats to 'Cello Students BY ARTHUR BROADLEY. "Musicians, devotees of the 'cello in particular, will welcome the latest volume of 'THE STRAD' Library, 'Chats to 'Cello Students,' by Arthur Broadley.... Mr. Broadley not only knows what he is talking about, but has practised what he says. From the choice of an instrument to finished delivery and orchestral playing, 'Chats to 'Cello Students' leaves nothing undiscussed. The treatment is simple and practical. The exhaustive chapter on 'bowing' should be an invaluable aid to students. In the last chapter of his book, 'On Delivery and Style' Mr. Broadley has given a lucid expression to a subject which has sadly needed voicing."--_The Tribune, Nuneaton_. "Is a brightly written little volume filled with practical information for those who seek to bring out the wealth of expression of which the violoncello is capable. The instruction is presented in homely, common-sense fashion, and there are upwards of fifty examples in music type to illustrate the author's meaning."--_Lloyd's Weekly_. "Every kind of bowing and fingering, the portamento, harmonic effects, arpeggios and their evolution from various chords, are all ably treated, and the work concludes with a few remarks on orchestral playing which are of especial interest."--_Musical News_. "As a writer on the technique of his instrument Mr. Broadley is known all over the world, perhaps his most successful work being a little book published by THE STRAD, 'Chats to 'Cello Students.'"--_The Violinist_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. VIII. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ ANTONIO STRADIVARI BY HORACE PETHERICK. _Of the Music Jury, International Inventions Exhibition, South Kensington, 1885; International Exhibition, Edinburgh, 1890; Expert in Law Courts, 1891; President of the Cremona Society_. ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR. "This is the history of the life-work of the great Italian stringed musical instrument maker.... There is a most interesting analysis of Stradivari's method of mechanical construction which again is illustrated by original drawings from the many Strads which it has been Mr. Petherick's privilege to examine. All lovers of the king of instruments will read this delightful little volume."--_Reynolds_. "Among makers of violins Stradivari perhaps occupies the premier position, and this account of his work, designs, and variations in finish of details will afford pleasure to many readers."--_Morning Post_. "This is a monograph which all students of the violin will be happy to possess. The author is a connoisseur and expert, and his account of the great Cremonese master and his life-work, is singularly well and clearly told, whilst the technical descriptions and diagrams cannot fail to interest everyone who has fallen under the spell of the violin.... Mr. Petherick traces the career of Stradivari from his earliest insight into the mysteries of the craft to his highest achievements. Numerous illustrations lend attraction to the volume, not the least being a view of Stradivari's atelier, from a painting by Rinaldi, the sketch of which was made on the premises."--_Music_. "Mr. Petherick is well known in the musical world as a violin expert with a special knowledge of the instruments made by the Cremonese master, whose biography he has here given us. He tells us how the master worked, what his pupils did, and where their work differs from that of their preceptor. In fact, the volume is as much a dissertation on the violins of Stradivari as a biography of the master, and is full of deeply interesting matter."--_Lloyds_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. IX. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 5/-, Post Free, 5/4._ VIOLIN MAKING BY WALTER H. MAYSON, With Thirty-one Full-page PHOTO ETCHINGS, Illustrating the process of Violin-making in every stage--from the rough slab of wood to the finished Instrument. The text is written by an Actual Violin Maker, in a very clear and lucid style. "'Popular lecture' style, with photographic illustrations."--_The Times_. "A feature of the book is the clearness of the illustrations."--_Morning Post_. "Describes a very fascinating art from start to finish."--_Morning Leader_. "This new booklet, on how to make a violin, is an admirable exposition of methods. Mr. Mayson avoids learned terminology. He uses the simplest English, and goes straight to the point. He begins by showing the young learner how to choose the best wood for the violin that is to be. Throughout a whole chatty, perfectly simple chapter, he discourses on the back. A separate chapter is devoted to the modelling of the back, and a third to its 'working out.' The art of sound-holes, ribs, neck, fingerboard, the scroll, the belly. Among the illustrations is one showing the tools which the author himself uses in the making of his instruments. To learners of the well-known Manchester maker's delicate art we commend this little volume."--_Daily News_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. X. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ (DEDICATED, BY PERMISSION, TO DR. JOSEPH JOACHIM) THE VIOLIN MUSIC OF BEETHOVEN, Critically discussed, and Illustrated with over FIFTY MUSICAL EXAMPLES, BY J. MATTHEWS. The book contains analytical and historical notes upon the Chamber Music of Beethoven, in which the violin takes part as a solo instrument, with some account of the various editions of the principal works; Beethoven's method of working, as shown by his Sketch Books, etc. It is dedicated to Dr. JOACHIM, who has furnished some notes respecting the stringed instruments possessed by Beethoven. _Extract from Author's Preface_:-- "Young students often suppose that they ought to admire every work which proceeds from a great genius; an attempt therefore has been made to convey some idea of the relative art-value and importance of the various compositions discussed in these pages. For between the best work of any man and his least inspired, there is a wide difference. Certainly nothing annoyed the great master more than to hear his least mature works praised, especially at a time when many of his greatest creations were too little studied to be understood save by a few." "Mr. John Matthews--dealing with Beethoven's music in pleasant fashion, and at not too great length--gives an historical account, and in many instances short analyses, with illustrations in music type of Beethoven's works for this instrument, and particularly the sonatas (to which considerable space is devoted), the trios, the quartets, and other compositions in which the master employed the violin. The book will be found by amateurs both interesting and instructive."--_Daily News_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. XI. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ Advice to Pupils & Teachers of the Violin, BY BASIL ALTHAUS. _Strongly recommended by_ AUGUST WILHELMJ & GUIDO PAPINI _London, March 18th, 1903_. DEAR MR. ALTHAUS, I read your book "Advice to Pupils and Teachers of the Violin" with great interest, and find it very useful. Hoping your book will meet with the success it deserves. I am, yours sincerely, AUGUST WILHELMJ. _London, Feb. 19th, 1903_. DEAR MR. ALTHAUS, I have read with interest your admirable book, "Advice to Pupils and Teachers of the Violin." I have no hesitation in recommending it as an indispensable work to all aspiring violinists and teachers. Your remarks on the acquirement of the various bowings, with the many musical examples, are excellent. I know of no work on this important subject so explicit and exhaustive. Wishing your book the great success it deserves. Believe me, yours sincerely, GUIDO PAPINI. "I have read the 157 pages that go to form the book in question, and can say, without any misgiving, that Mr. Althaus has successfully achieved what he set out to do."--_Musical Standard_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. XII. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ THE Repairing and Restoration of Violins, BY HORACE PETHERICK. _Of the Music Jury, International Inventions Exhibition, South Kensington, 1885; International Exhibition, Edinburgh, 1890; Expert in Law Courts, 1891; President of the Cremona Society_. WITH FIFTY ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR. CONTENTS. The proper sort of glue--Its preparation and use--Loose fingerboards--Injuries to the scroll--Insertion of fresh wood--Fracture of peg-box and shell--Worn peg-holes--Refilling or boring same--Grafting--Lengthening the neck--Treatment of worm-holes--Fixing on graft on neck--Ways of removing the upper table and the neck--Cleansing the interior--Closing of cracks in upper table--Getting parts together that apparently do not fit--Treatment of warped lower table--Repairing old end blocks by new ones--Matching wood for large cracks--Replacing lost portions--Repairs to purfling--Removal of a fixed sound-post--Fitting a fresh part of worm-eaten rib--Lining a thin back--Fixing the bar--Varnishing, etc., etc. "The author is a man of wide experience, and with him it is a labour of love, so that few more suitable hands could be found for the task. To him fiddles are quite human in their characteristics, needing a 'physician within beck and call,' and developing symptoms capable of temporary alleviation or permanent cure, as the case may be, and no remedial measures are left undescribed."--_Musical News_. "Mr. Petherick is a man of wide experience in violins, so his hints about the treatment and care of the instrument are invaluable. His imaginary interviews are both clever and amusing, and, moreover, contain useful information of what to do, and avoid, in the treatment of violins."--_Hereford Times_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. XIII. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ THE VIOLIN: Solo Playing, Soloists and Solos, BY WILLIAM HENLEY. "Mr. William Henley is an excellent performer, and his book, 'The Violin: Solo Playing, Soloists and Solos,' is the result of considerable practice in the art he discusses.... The opening advice to violin students, the insistence on tune first and then on tone, the latter depending greatly for its excellence upon the correctness of the former, is not only worth saying, but is said well, and with conviction. Mr. Henley discriminates well between violinists: Joachim, the classic; Carrodus, the plain; Sarasate, the neat and elegant; and Wilhelmj, the fiery and bold.... The list of violin concertos, given in the last chapter but one of the book, seems a very complete one, and should be useful for purposes of reference."--_The London and Provincial Music Trades Review_. "For the student whose intention it is to make the violin a means of livelihood--the professional soloist or orchestral player in embryo--this little work, written in a spirit of obvious sincerity, is well-nigh invaluable.... The chapters on 'Teaching and Studies,' 'The Artist,' 'Phrasing,' 'Conception,' and 'True Feeling,' are very well written, and the whole work is worth careful and diligent perusal."--_The Musical World_. "The author of this book has thought much and deeply on the fascinating subject of which he treats, and is entitled to a hearing.... The author's remarks on 'Tone' are excellently conceived, and of no small interest, the subject being less hackneyed than that of ordinary technique. In his chapter on 'Style' he reminds the readers of the many factors which go to the making of a fine violinist, among which Style--which is the outcome of the imagination and the sensibility of the player--is one of the most important. The fine executant is common enough now-a-days, but the fine stylist as rare as ever."--_Musical News_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. XIV. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ SELECTED VIOLIN SOLOS, AND HOW TO PLAY THEM, BY BASIL ALTHAUS. (Author of "Advice to Pupils and Teachers of the Violin.") With 283 Musical Examples. CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION. SECTION I. GRADE A.--Elementary Pieces. GRADE B.--Easy, not exceeding First Position. GRADE C.--Easy, using First and Third Position. SECTION II. GRADE D.--Moderately Difficult, not exceeding the Third Position. GRADE E.--Moderately Difficult, as far as the Fifth Position. GRADE F.--Difficult, especially as regards Sentiment and Expression. SECTION III. GRADE G.--Difficult, using all Positions. GRADE H.--Very Difficult, including Standard Concertos and Concert Pieces. GRADE I.--For Virtuosi. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No, XV. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ THE VIOLIN AND ITS STORY: OR THE HISTORY AND CONSTRUCTION OF THE VIOLIN. _Translated and Adapted from the German of_ HYACINTH ABELE BY GEOFFREY ALWYN. _WITH TWENTY-EIGHT ILLUSTRATIONS_. "The school of Cremona is dealt with at great length, but in the most interesting way. Short biographical sketches are given of the great exponents of this school, which was founded by Andreas Amati. To it belonged Antonio Stradivari, who is said to be the greatest of all violin makers, and Joseph Guarnerius. The pupils of the Amati and the others mentioned are duly tabulated before the schools of Milan and Venice are discussed. Following these we have the German school, etc., etc. Part III. of the book under notice deals with the constituent parts of the violin, and there is nothing that the seeker after knowledge cannot find here, even to the number of hairs which should go to the making of a bow. Strings, bridges, sound-posts, bass-bars, nuts, pegs--indeed, everything about a violin is treated in an authoritative way. Not for a very long time have we been so interested in a book, and for that reason we wish our violin players to share that pleasure by getting a copy."--_The Cumnock Chronicle_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. XVI. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 5/-, Post Free, 5/4._ JOSEPH GUARNERIUS, HIS WORK & HIS MASTER, BY HORACE PETHERICK (Of the Music Jury, International Inventions Exhibition, South Kensington, 1885; International Exhibition, Edinburgh, 1890; Expert in Law Courts, 1891; President of the Cremona Society), With numerous Illustrations by the Author, 41 full-page Reproductions of Photographs, AND 220 pages of Letterpress. "Mr. Petherick is well known in the musical world as a violin expert with a special knowledge of the instruments made by the Cremonese master."--_Lloyds_. This is the only exhaustive work published on JOSEPH GUARNERIUS, and the Author claims to have discovered his Teacher in Andreas Gisalberti, whose name is here mentioned for the first time as a maker of renown. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY. No. XVII. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 5/-, Post Free, 5/4._ NICOLO PAGANINI: HIS LIFE AND WORK, BY STEPHEN S. STRATTON, With TWENTY-SEVEN FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS including REPRODUCTIONS OF PHOTOGRAPHS TAKEN ESPECIALLY FOR THIS WORK. "It is a book which should be in the library of every musician, and we heartily commend it to the notice of our many musical and other readers."--_The Cumnock Chronicle_. "Mr. Stratton, the author of 'Nicolo Paganini: His Life and Work,' was eminently qualified to write such a book. We do not know any book of the kind so completely sane and yet so well-informed and just. The great violinist's life is described fully, and what to many readers will be the most valuable part of the volume, all his works are concisely analysed in a long chapter. A notable feature is the series of illustrations. They show many things connected with Paganini--his birthplace, his tomb, his fiddle, and the like--in addition to portraits and caricatures."--_The Morning Leader_. "The late Mr. Stephen S. Stratton's 'Nicolo Paganini: His Life and Work' (London: THE STRAD Office, 5s.), is the most complete account extant of this greatest of all violin virtuosos ... the value of his book lies in the fact that not only has he written a book which has considerable importance as a biographical and historical work, but has also made of Paganini a credible and living figure. The volume is enriched by a number of valuable and interesting illustrations, an appendix and a bibliography."--_Musical Standard_. 
36147	----	[Illustration: Geo. Gemünder] GEORGE GEMÜNDER'S PROGRESS IN VIOLIN MAKING, WITH INTERESTING FACTS CONCERNING THE ART _AND ITS CRITICS IN GENERAL_. BY GEORGE GEMÜNDER. _PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR_: ASTORIA, N. Y., 1881. _Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1881. GEORGE GEMÜNDER, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress._ BIOGRAPHY OF GEORGE GEMÜNDER. George Gemünder was born at Ingelfingen, in the kingdom of Wurtemburg, on the 13th of April, 1816. His father was a maker of bow instruments, and it was, therefore, from Gemünder's earliest youth that he devoted himself to the same art and the studies connected with it. When he left school, it was suggested to his father that George should become a school-master, as he at the time wrote the finest hand and executed the best designs of any among his classmates. His father was not averse to this proposal and decided to carry it out. George was, accordingly, directed to prepare for the seminary. The plan was not, however, in accordance with his own tastes or inclinations, and he followed it for a period of but three weeks, only to abandon it finally and forever, to take up that employment which accorded with his natural gift and gave scope for the development of his genius. After his father's death, which occurred when George was in his nineteenth year, he went abroad, and worked variously at Pesth, Presburg, Vienna and Munich. Fortune smiled upon him, and more than once an opportunity was presented of establishing a business; but nothing that promised simply commonplace results and a commonplace life could attract his eye, since his mind, aspiring to improvement in his art, was constantly impelling him toward that celebrated manufacturer of violins, Vuillaume, at Paris. He plainly saw that in Germany he could not reach in the art that degree of accomplishment for which he strove, and, therefore, he resolved to find, if possible, at Strasburg, such a position as he had had at Munich. Through the mediation of a friend he obtained a call to go to a manufacturer of musical instruments at Strasburg; but upon his arrival he was astonished to learn that the man was a maker of brass instruments! Here was a dilemma. Disappointed in his effort to find employment, winter at the door and far away from home, what could he do? The manufacturer, whose name was Roth, perceiving his perturbation, was kind enough to ask Gemünder to remain in his house until he should have succeeded in finding such a position as he desired. Gemünder accepted the profered kindness, and after the lapse of six weeks he formed the acquaintance of a gentleman with whom he afterward became intimate, and who promised to write for Gemünder a letter of recommendation and send it to Vuillaume at Paris. Meanwhile Gemünder remained in Strasburg. One day, while taking a walk in the park called "Die Englishen Anlagen," he seated himself on a bench and shortly fell asleep. In his sleep he heard a voice which seemed to say: "Don't give way; within three days your situation will change!" The voice proved prophetic, for on the third day after the dream his friend came to him with a letter from Vuillaume, which contained the agreeable intelligence that Gemünder should go to Paris. The invitation was promptly accepted and Gemünder immediately started on his journey. When he arrived at Vuillaume's another difficulty was encountered, for Vuillaume had mistakenly supposed that Gemünder spoke French. By mere good fortune it happened at the time of Gemünder's arrival that a German professor was giving music lessons to Vuillaume's twin daughters, who in the capacity of interpreter informed Gemünder that M. Vuillaume was sorry to have induced him to come to Paris, because it would be impossible to get along in his house without French. Vuillaume kindly offered to pay Gemünder's traveling expenses from Paris back to Strasburg, but said, however, that should the latter be satisfied with nominal wages at first, he would give him thirty sous a day until he should have learned enough of the language to be able to get along. Gemünder accepted the proposition, which greatly astonished Vuillaume because he had not supposed that Gemünder would be contented with such small wages! Then he showed him a violin and violoncello as models of his manufacture, and asked him if he could make instruments like those. The answer being in the affirmative, Vuillaume smiled, for he was sure it could not be done. On the following day he provided Gemünder with materials for making a new violin, in order to see what he could do. He soon perceived that Gemünder possessed more theoretical than practical knowledge. When the violin was finished, he made him understand that their way of working was different, and he desired to have his own methods adopted. Gemünder did his best, and being a good designer, he soon acquired a knowledge of the different characters of the propagated Italian school in regard to the construction of violins. After the lapse of three months Gemünder's wages were increased ten sous a day, and although he now saw his most heartfelt desire fulfilled, namely, to work in Vuillaume's manufactory, yet he did not find it possible to stay there permanently, because his fellow-workmen, who had observed the kindness with which their employer had treated his new workman, became filled with feelings of jealousy, and resolved to harrass him and compel him if possible to leave. So thoroughly did they succeed in embittering his life, that Gemünder finally resolved to leave Vuillaume and go to America, and with this firmly fixed in his mind he began his preparations secretly to carry out his plan. When everything was ready, he went to Vuillaume to make known his intention and to explain to him the cause of his leaving. The latter, astonished at this intelligence, declared that Gemünder should not leave his house at all, and assured him that he would not meet with further unkindness from his fellow-workmen, even if all should be dismissed, although some of them had already been in his manufactory for many years. He further assured Gemünder that should he not desire to remain in Paris, he would establish him in a business similar to his own, either in Germany or elsewhere, but he dissuaded him from going to America, for the reason that the art of violin making was not sufficiently understood there at that time. This kindness and benevolence upon the part of his employer so touched his heart that he was constrained to remain, and he began to construct new violins, in some of which he imitated the Italian character thoroughly, and also to repair injured violins. One day Vuillaume handed Gemünder a violin, with the remark that he wished him to do his best work in repairing it, for a gentleman from Russia had sent it. Vuillaume especially called Gemünder's attention to a certain place in the back which was to be repaired, which was almost invisible, and he gave Gemünder a magnifying glass for his assistance, but Gemünder returned it, saying that he could do better with his naked eyes, and when finished Vuillaume might examine it with the glass. When completed, the work proved to be all that Vuillaume had wished, and satisfied the owner of the instrument so thoroughly that in his ecstasy of delight he presented Vuillaume, in addition to the payment for his work, with a costly Russian morning gown. On the return of Ole Bull from America, in 1845, that distinguished performer brought his wonderful "Caspar da Salo" violin to Vuillaume to be repaired, and requested the latter to do the work himself, as it was something about which he was very particular; but Vuillaume answered that he had a German in his workshop who could do it better than he. Impelled by curiosity to become acquainted with this German, he asked to be shown to the place. After some conversation, Gemünder undertook the repairing of the violin and completed it in as masterly a manner as he did in the case of the Russian gentleman. After an interval of three years, while Gemünder was still working at Vuillaume's, the latter showed him a violin and asked his opinion about it. Gemünder, having examined it, replied that it was made by some one who had no school! "I expected to hear this," returned Vuillaume, "and now let me tell you, that this violin is the very same that I engaged you to make when you came to me. I show it only that you may recognize what you are _now_ and what you were _then_!" Gemünder was not only surprised, but amazed, and would hardly have believed it possible. This incident is only mentioned to show that as long as the eye has not been fully cultivated, those who fancy themselves to be artists are not such, and in reality they cannot distinguish right from wrong. Gemünder has often experienced this in America. He knows no other violin maker who deserves to be compared with Vuillaume in this respect, for he correctly understood the character of the outline and form as well as the interior structure of the different Italian instruments. Towards the end of 1847, when Gemünder had been four years at Vuillaume's, his two brothers, who were in America, invited him to go there, as the interest in and taste for music was improving and they intended to give concerts. Gemünder therefore determined to accept this invitation and left Paris. He arrived in November, at Springfield, Mass., and, meeting his brothers, arrangements for concerts were made with an agent, who engaged several other artists to make up the company. The instrumental quartet consisted of a clarinet, violin, flute and bass guitar. This music made quite a sensation, and the houses were always crowded, yet the Gemünder brothers did not receive anything from the proceeds. They soon comprehended that they had had too much confidence in their agent, and after the lapse of a week they gave up the speculation. For George Gemünder, who had then very little knowledge of the English language, which fact increased the difficulty of his position, there remained no other choice but to settle as a violin maker. He borrowed from a friend twenty-five dollars, and with this money he set out for Boston, Mass., and established himself there. The violins which he made he sold at fifty dollars each, and made repairs at low prices. In 1851, when the first exhibition of London took place, Gemünder sent a quartet of bow instruments, in imitation of Stradivarius, and one violin according to Joseph Guarnerius, and another according to Nicholas Amati. As his business in Boston did not prove sufficiently lucrative, Gemünder left the city after eighteen months, without waiting for news of the result of the exhibition, and established business in New York. Later he learned that his instruments had received the first premium at the exhibition. When, in the following year, 1852, Gemünder received his instruments back from the exhibition, he learned that Ole Bull was in New York again, and, as he had formed his acquaintance in Paris, he paid him a visit and gave information that he had established himself in New York, and also that he had obtained the first premium at the London exhibition. Ole Bull was highly astonished at this news, as he said "Vuillaume is the best violin maker, and I have on one of my violins the best specimen of his workmanship as a repairer." He thereupon showed Gemünder his "Caspar da Salo." "Here," he said, "look at it, find the place where the repair was made." But Gemünder replied: "Sir, have you entirely forgotten that when you went with your violin to Vuillaume, he made you acquainted with a German in his studio, whom he directed to repair this 'Caspar da Salo' violin, and that this German was myself?" Upon hearing this a light seemed to break upon his mind, and he exclaimed, "Yes, yes, I do remember. Now you shall become in America what Vuillaume is in Europe." Meanwhile the advantages which might have been derived from the London exhibition were lost, in consequence of Gemünder's removal from Boston and establishing business at New York. Spohr, Thalberg, Vieuxtemps and many more of such authorities, examined his violins in the exhibition and were much surprised at the excellent qualities of the instruments. Spohr observed: "These are the first new violins that I ever saw, tried and liked!" When they were played upon by him and others, they attracted hundreds of admirers and would have been sold at high prices had Gemünder not failed to make arrangements to dispose of them. The results obtained at Paris and Vienna were similar, his instruments attracting much attention in each exhibition. In the Vienna Exposition, held in 1873, Gemünder gained the greatest triumph that was ever obtained by any violin maker. The "Kaiser" violin sent by Gemünder in response to an offer of a prize for the best imitation, was declared by the professional judges to be a renewed original; a genuine Guarnerius not only in regard to its outer appearance and character, but also as to its wonderful quality of tone and ease with which the tones come. To find these qualities in a new violin was beyond all expectation, since it had hitherto been taken for granted that such a result could not be obtained, because that object had been the unsuccessful study of different makers for hundreds of years. This proves, therefore, to the musical world, that Gemünder has solved that problem which has generally been considered impossible. In spite of all this, however, Gemünder had learned by painful experience that the prejudice existing among most of the violinists was not to be wiped out. These people are incapable of judging reasonably, and it is easier for them to say that Gemünder makes his new violins of wood prepared by a chemical process, or that it has not yet been proven that his violins have kept their good quality for an extended period of time, notwithstanding that Gemünder has been constructing violins in America since 1847, and that nobody can prove that any violin of his making has lost its quality of tone. On the contrary, they have invariably proved good. Gemünder, however, confesses that a few of his first made violins in America do not equal those of his present construction in regard to tone and varnish. The cause of it was that Gemünder being unacquainted with the woods of the new country, was not so successful at first in the choice of wood for his violins, and naturally would not be until his experience had improved. The prejudice above referred to would, however, be likely to exist for another century, could Gemünder live for that length of time among those people, the most of whom would persevere in their opinions. The impracticability of the theory of using chemically prepared wood for violins is sufficiently understood at the present time to render it useless to pursue the discussion in these pages. Gemünder has informed himself as to the degree of success attained in the use of the different chemical preparations of wood, as well as those prepared with borax, by which, the inventor asserts, the wood becomes richer in tone and lasts longer than that which is left in its natural state. Yet, without opposing the inventor, Gemünder follows the principle of the old Italian violin makers, because their productions have been in use to this day; therefore the material left in its natural state has proved good and has satisfied the musical world for these three hundred years. He has indeed succeeded in constructing new violins of material in its natural state, which produce not only an extraordinary power of tone, but also a strikingly equal quality of tone, and the quality of easy speaking, and the outward appearance of the old violins has been so faithfully imitated that he who has not been told the fact, will take them for genuine instruments made by Stradivarius, Guarnerius, Maggini, Amati, and others. It is therefore assuming not too much to say that George Gemünder has surpassed in this art all the violin makers of the present and past times; for where the Italian masters ended with their knowledge, George Gemünder commenced and improved, which fact can be proved to the satisfaction of every critic; for George Gemünder has not only gained the same results as those achieved by Stradivarius and others, but he has sketched a better acoustic principle for producing tone. It is for this reason that August Wilhelmj, the great violinist, calls George Gemünder the greatest violin maker of all times, for Wilhelmj had learned by ample trial of the instruments made by George Gemünder that they were incontestably all that the latter claimed for them. Wilhelmj admired Gemünder's "Kaiser" violin at the Vienna Exhibition, as it was the only violin of importance which attracted his attention, and this aroused within him the desire to become personally acquainted with its maker. By means of his renown as the great violin virtuoso, an engagement was offered him to go to America, which he accepted, and thus his wish was fulfilled. On the day after his arrival in New York, Wilhelmj went to see Gemünder at Astoria, and from that time has been Gemünder's friend and admirer. Wilhelmj and other artists have expressed astonishment that a man of George Gemünder's capabilities in this art was to be found in America. Although he enjoys the highest renown in his art, yet he lives in a country in which the appreciation of that art is still in its development; for the number of amateurs such as are found in Europe, who spend enormous sums in instruments, is very small here. The fact is that George Gemünder lives here at too early a period, for his productions are a continuation of those which the great Italian masters brought forth. Taking into consideration all the foregoing circumstances it is fair to suppose that George Gemünder has had to contend with extraordinary difficulties during this long time. For ignorance and arrogance can do much damage, in this respect, not only to the artist, but also to the amateur, as these often times place their confidence in those musicians who have no knowledge of violins, and who can only mislead them. APPENDIX. GEORGE GEMUNDER'S OBSERVATIONS IN REGARD TO VIEWS WHICH THE MOST OF VIOLINISTS AND AMATEURS HAD OF THE TONE OF OLD AND NEW VIOLINS--HOW THEY IGNORED THE NEW INSTRUMENTS, AND HOW THEY WERE DECEIVED AND SURPRISED IN THEIR PREJUDICE CONCERNING THEM. Gemünder had learned that the knowledge of arrogant violinists and amateurs in regard to tone did not rest on any correct basis, and that their prejudice rested on a tradition arising from the decline of the manufacture of violins since the death of the celebrated Italian makers. All attempts of late years to make good violins having failed, an aversion to new violins has been gradually spreading, so that the most of people at the present time do not believe it possible for violins to be both new and good. Firstly, because it has been found that new violins have not been constructed so as to possess the tone of old Italian instruments; and secondly, that those made of chemically prepared wood did not stand proof for a great length of time. Many musicians and amateurs have in consequence of this prevailing prejudice gone to an extreme and disregarded new violins, no matter what tone they might have. To this class of people belonged especially the violinist Wieniawski, who had an opportunity to play on one of the best violins made by Gemünder, which opportunity he ignored, because the violin looked new. Instruments imitated by Gemünder were placed before him as genuine violins, and he admired them. Ole Bull was equally surprised when an imitation according to Stradivarius was handed to him in Columbus, Ohio, and he declared it to be a genuine original. When Vieuxtemps gave concerts in America for the first time, and went to see his friend Vieweg, Professor of music in Savannah, Ga., the Professor showed him his Stradivarius violin. Vieuxtemps, catching sight of it, said: "If he had not been quite sure that his violin was at home, he would think it was his own." But when his friend told him it was a Gemünder violin, he was astonished and observed: "The d***l knows how Gemünder can bring such a tone in new violins!" At about the same time a violinist came from Germany and visited Gemünder to hear his violins, because Spohr had praised him so much; but at the same time he doubted that new violins could sound like those of the old Italian masters. Gemünder first showed him some having the appearance of being new; the violinist played upon them and then uttered: "They are as I thought; they have not that sweet, melting tone of the Italian instruments." Hereupon he asked Gemünder if he had no Italian violins, in order to show the difference. Gemünder then opened another box, and showed him an imitation of Amati for a genuine one. No sooner did the instrument strike his sight than his face brightened up and he said: "Everybody can see at once that there must be tone in this," and after playing upon it he was so pleased that he said to Gemünder: "Yes, there are none of the present violin makers who have brought it so far!" Hereupon Gemünder informed him that this was also a new violin of his making. Scarcely had the visitor heard this, when, ashamed of his prejudice, he took his hat and went away. Similar incidents often occur. In 1859 Gemünder sent violins to the Exhibition of Baltimore, after which, on one occasion, he was invited to a soiree at which his violins were played. He also had a genuine Guarnerius among his own instruments. An amateur, Mr. Gibson, a very good player, was present and anxious to hear the Italian violin. During the performance of a quartet on the violins made by Gemünder, this amateur, who was possessed of the popular prejudice against new instruments, and who fancied he heard the Italian violin, was so exceedingly delighted with it that he observed, "To hear such violins is sufficient to keep any one from ever touching new ones." But when Gemünder told him they were new ones made by him, the amateur stared at him as much as to say, "Do you make fun of me? These violins do not look new at all!" Gemünder, however, convinced him of the truth of his assertion. This fact surprised the amateur to such a degree that he was at loss what to say, and later, upon learning the price of one of the instruments, bought it. Sometime after this he valued it at two thousand dollars in gold. Since then the violin has been sent several times to Gemünder, either for a new bridge or other slight repairs, and each time new anecdotes have been related of it. Of especial interest is that one of Father Urso, who was looking for a genuine Guarnerius to give to his daughter Camilla, the celebrated violinist. He took Professor Simon with him to see the instrument. Both were very much surprised at it, not only on account of its undoubted genuineness, but also that it was kept so well. Gemünder then let them know that he had perpetrated a joke, and that the instrument was made by himself. One day Mr. Poznanski, from Charleston, S. C., in company with his son, who was already an artist on the violin, visited Gemünder. Although still young, his father intended to send him to Vieuxtemps for his further artistic accomplishment, and with this purpose in view he was willing to buy an Italian violin. As Gemünder had none on hand, he showed him a new violin, but Poznanski declared that he would not buy a new one. Gemünder then showed him an imitation, as if it were a genuine original. The son played on it, and both father and son were highly satisfied with it; they expressed their wish to buy it and asked the price, which was given as five hundred dollars. When Poznanski was about to pay down the money, Gemünder told him that this instrument was also new. Whereupon Poznanski replied in an excited tone, "Have you not heard that we do not want a new violin?" and they left the Atelier! When Vieuxtemps left America, in 1858, Poznanski's son went with him to finish his studies under his direction. After the lapse of eight years he returned an accomplished artist, and visited Gemünder again. He then remarked that he wished to find an Italian violin of first class, and asked Gemünder if he had something of that kind in his possession? Here he took the opportunity to remind Gemünder of the time when he had deceived both him and his father, observing at the same time very naively: "But now, Gemünder, you cannot deceive me. I obtained thorough knowledge of imitations at Paris, and also a knowledge of the genuine Italian violins, for I had an opportunity to see many of those made by the masters." Gemünder told him that he had two Joseph Guarnerius violins of first class in his possession, and laid them before him. Poznanski expressed his astonishment to find such rarities. After a thorough examination Poznanski declared there was no doubt in regard to their genuineness! He tried both violins, and soon evinced his predilection for one of them, which he wished to buy, and inquired the price. Gemünder offered each of them at one thousand dollars, but at the same time told him that he had deceived him for a second time, for the instrument which he had picked out was new and made by himself, whilst the other was genuine. Poznanski, however, told Gemünder that he could not deceive him, that it was not possible to produce an instrument like that. At this moment two friends of Gemünder, who were acquainted with his instruments, entered the shop, and Gemünder asked them in the presence of the young artist, at the same time pointing to the instrument selected by Poznanski, "who made this violin?" They replied that the maker of it was Gemünder. This appeared to him impossible, but, after deliberating on the subject, he said, "I must believe it now, and yet I don't believe it!" A few days later, becoming fully assured that the instrument to which he had taken a fancy was not an Italian violin, he bought the genuine one, which, however, was an excellent instrument, thus giving up the one to which he had first given preference. This is another striking proof of prejudice. After a time, however, when Poznanski felt more at home at Gemünder's, he found out that the instruments made by Gemünder were the only true concert violins, and disposing of his Guarnerius, he bought a Maggini made by Gemünder; he now saw the full extent of his prejudice, and was most severe in his denunciation of all who thought that there were no other violins but the Italian to be played upon. If Wieniawski had not been seized with such a strange fancy, and had had more confidence in other artists, he would not have been compelled to change violins every now and then, for he was constantly buying one Italian violin after another and finding none to suit him, merely because none would do but an Italian instrument. Thus he came to America and played on his Stradivarius violin, which had a splendid tone in a room, but when played upon in a concert hall proved a great deal too weak, especially on the G string, when it was overstrained. He then bought one of the finest Guarnerius violins in Brooklyn, but as it did not prove any better than the other, he returned it. To find Italian violins fit to produce a sufficient effect in large concert halls is a great rarity, since they have been mostly spoiled by "fiddle-patchers," or had not from the very beginning the proper construction for the giving out of tone sufficient to fill such halls. On just such powerless violins Vieuxtemps performed at his concerts on his last tour through America. One day Gemünder made the acquaintance of Mario, the greatest Italian connoisseur of violins, who was decorated for this knowledge when he was at New York. Gemünder asked him to come to his shop, as he had several violins which he would like to show him, in order to have him judge if they were really genuine instruments. Mario came and viewed the violins shown to him by Gemünder minutely, nay, even took a magnifying glass to examine the varnish, whereupon he declared to Gemünder that they were genuine instruments. But the fact is they were violins made by Gemünder! In the beginning of 1860 Gemünder was often visited by an amateur named Messing, who wished to find a good Italian violin, for he manifested an aversion toward Gemünder's productions, owing to his prejudice against new violins. At the same time Gemünder had as an apprentice a nephew, who, when he had not yet been fully three years with him, was engaged to make his first violin, according to form of Stradivarius. When it was finished Gemünder made him a present of it, and said he would varnish it so as to look old. Afterward his apprentice gave it to a friend in New York to sell it for him. This friend published in the newspapers that he had a Stradivarius to sell. Mr. Messing was the first to make inquiries about it, and bought it, highly rejoiced at having a Stradivarius at last. He then had it examined by the violin maker Mercier, in New York, who confirmed the claim of originality. Mr. Messing then went to Europe, and at Paris he wished to hear what the violin maker Gand would say, and the latter also declared it was an old instrument, adding, however, that in order to be quite sure whether it was a genuine instrument or not it would require more time than he could apply to it just then. When he went to Berlin, he showed his instrument to the violin maker Grimm, that he might hear from him his opinion as to its genuineness. Grimm refrained from uttering his opinion, yet he offered him a high price for the instrument, which the owner considered to be sufficient evidence that he possessed something extraordinary, and to warrant him in keeping his violin. After the lapse of four years, when Messing had returned to New York, he came to see Gemünder, full of joyous anxiety to show him his violin, saying, "Here, Mr. Gemünder, I have something to show you; I have found what I have been so long looking for!" Mr. Messing then opened his box, and Gemünder, catching a glimpse of the violin, exclaimed, "That is my apprentice's first production; how did you come by it?" At these words Mr. Messing stood as if thunderstruck, and in his bewilderment he tried in every way to convince Gemünder that he was mistaken, but failing in this attempt, his discomfiture was complete. When he had somewhat recovered from his dismay, he felt heartily ashamed, because he had disregarded the work of the master only to take up with the apprentice's first production, and this, too, under the delusion that that work was a genuine Stradivarius violin. Mr. Messing is now cured of his prejudice, and is no longer looking for a Stradivarius violin. At the time when Gemünder had his violin in the Exhibition of Vienna, Baron Leonard, from Hungary, who was a great violinist, brought him his Italian violin to have it repaired. During their discourse about violins the Baron conveyed to Gemünder the impression that he had already seen many Italian violins, and he seemed to have a great knowledge of them. Thereupon Gemünder showed him a violin that seemed to be a genuine Guarnerius, which he had determined to send to the exhibition of Vienna. The Baron was quite astonished at seeing such a wonderful and splendid instrument, and did not know which to admire more, whether the varnish of the violin or its tone; in short, he looked at it with reverence, as if it were a shrine. Gemünder then showed him a Stradivarius, and when the Baron's gaze fell upon this instrument, he seemed to be enraptured, and he exclaimed, in a tone of question: "Mr. Gemünder, how do you come by such treasures? In truth you have a treasure of the greatest rarity, for I never saw a violin so beautiful and of such tone!" When, however, Gemünder declared to him that these were the sisters of the "Kaiser" violin, which was in the Vienna Exhibition, and were made by him, the Baron conducted himself as if he had awakened from a sweet dream, and found it difficult to realize his true condition. PREFACE. It is not my intention to unfold in this work my knowledge of the structure of violins; for the present generation would not thank me for doing so. In the treatise itself will be found the reasons why I have not set forth that knowledge. Since the death of the celebrated old Italian violin makers, many works have been put forth, in which we find not only in what manner those famous masters varnished their violins, but also prescriptions even, of theorists who usually know nothing about the practice, or mathematical principles thereof. Abundant theories are to be found in all such works, but they are good only for those who have little or no knowledge of violin making. If the science of the celebrated Italian masters could really have been found in these works, the experiments made by European investigators would not have been entirely unsuccessful. In George Hart's interesting book, "The Violin," a comparative illustration may be found of the workmanship of all violin makers with whom he became acquainted, either personally or by history, and by whose productions he obtained his practical knowledge, which comparisons are generally good, but not entirely free from error. This compilation of experiences is highly interesting for all those who take an interest in violins. The treatises which will be found below have reference simply to the art of making violins, to violin players and their critics, the information contained in which has for the most part never hitherto been made public. Through these scientific explanations a better judgment will be awakened, which will tend to show how, in consequence of mistakes and ignorance in regard to violins and violin makers, false ideas arise. PROGRESS OF THE STRUCTURE OF VIOLINS--THEIR CRITICS. In 1845 I became personally acquainted with Ole Bull, at Vuillaume's, in Paris, where I then had my first opportunity of hearing and admiring an artist on the violin. I learned then to appreciate the beauty of both arts, and the sublimity of attainment in either to be a violin virtuoso or a perfect violin maker. The latter art engaged my whole attention, and it was my greatest aim to reach to the highest point of perfection therein. I also found that Ole Bull took special interest in the different forms of violins, and I remember that as early as 1841, at which time I worked at Pesth, my employer made the so-called "Ole Bull's bass-bars" in violins, the ideas of Ole Bull concerning violins then being accepted as authority. Ole Bull subsequently made many experiments regarding tone, especially upon new violins, in order to reproduce the same character of tone, then considered lost, peculiar to the Italian instruments. Knowing that all experiments made since the death of the celebrated Italian masters had proven unsuccessful, he undertook to construct a violin of very old wood, but was soon convinced that he had not obtained better results than others; he therefore decided the project to be an impossibility, and having arrived at this decision, his opinion was generally conceded to. Since then, doubtless, he found out that to make a violin was a more difficult task, for him, than to play on one. As a virtuoso, however, he obtained a celebrity which will make his name immortal, and as he was an artist in his own peculiar way, his name will live forever in the memory of men. Nature has endowed many men with rare gifts, each one possessing a talent peculiar to himself: but we know how long it requires to perfect one's self in any given art, and it therefore cannot be expected that a great violin virtuoso should at the same time be proficient in the art of violin making, the two arts being totally different. It is, however, generally believed that the assertion of Ole Bull had more weight with many violin players and amateurs than the most adequate knowledge of a violin maker. I admit that Ole Bull had some experience with violins, but had he obtained sufficient knowledge he would have easily understood that many of his ideas were not based upon principles which he thought had remained secret to all investigators on the subject, as the greatest authorities have acknowledged the tone in George Gemünder's violins to be of the same quality as that characteristic of the best Italian instruments. This proves that violins are judged the best when they are mistaken for Italian instruments and prejudice only is the actuating motive when the declaration follows that the instrument is a new violin. If, therefore, the knowledge of tone could have proved more reliable, prejudice would not, in many cases, have appeared so severe, and embodied itself so as to degenerate into fanaticism. Violins made of healthy wood and according to the rule can never lose their tone. It is, however, something different if they are carelessly treated. When an Italian violin, which lay untouched in concealment for fifty years, was shown to Wieniawski at the Russian court, and he was asked what he thought of it, he said, after trying it: "The violin has a bad tone." "Well," said the Emperor, "let us put it back in its old place. If it had been good I should have presented you with it." Wieniawski, greatly surprised, replied: "Oh, when I play upon it it will regain its tone." Here vanity and ignorance are shown at once; for if that artist had had any knowledge of violins, he must have known that the violin was not in good order, and that it was first necessary to have it put in a good condition by a professional repairer; but instead of making such a proposal, he thought to make an impression by his renown, and that he would improve it by playing upon it. I mention this because it contains two points: firstly, because, especially here in America, great stress is laid upon the opinions of such artists, but it proves that artists do not always have a knowledge sufficient to enable them to give a correct judgment of violins; secondly, if this violin had been new, many would have thought that it was made of chemically prepared wood. A violin, however, of such defective wood, can never give a good tone; because the life is taken out of it when it is made. If such artists would make themselves acquainted with a professional violin maker, many of them would get more light on this matter, but since they consider themselves to be authorities on the subject, there is very little prospect of visible progress. It is, therefore, a rarity when an artist is found who is able to judge of the quality of tone, whether the wood is chemically prepared or not, and although this is easily to be distinguished by the practiced ear, a peculiar experience is required for it nevertheless. Many, however, believe that he who plays the violin to perfection, and especially the player of renown, must be acknowledged as a judge of tone. I admit that many violin players are judges of tone, but not beyond a certain degree, as the greater number of them hear their own instruments only and are taken with them; but he who possesses a feeling of tone, and into whose hands violins of all shapes and qualities are falling, whereby he learns to distinguish the different characters of tone, is to be considered a connoisseur of tone; he must, however, possess some knowledge of playing, although it is not necessary for him to be a solo player, for with how many solo players have I become acquainted who have no more judgment of tone than children. For musicians and solo players it is very difficult to find out how far the tone of a violin reaches. Many a player, having no experience in this regard, plays in concerts on a violin which sounds like an echo, but if the instrument is called Stradivarius or Guarnerius and $3,000 has been paid for it, and besides it has a "history" attached to it, then, verily, it must sound. The critic, however, does not blame the violin, but the player, for weakness of tone, and in that respect he is right. For solo players who still use such echoing violins in concerts, it would be of the greatest importance to make themselves acquainted with the quality of tone which is fit for concerts, for most Italian violins which are used in concerts prove either too old or of too thin wood; but most players are accustomed to the fine, tender, echoing tone to a degree that the true concert tone appears quite strange to them. Thus, violins of chemically prepared wood will never do for concerts, and it is a great mistake to believe that such violins have ever produced as good a tone as good Italian violins do. Ignorance and self interest have launched this untruth into the world. For violins made of such wood produce short vibrations--a muffled color of tone similar to that of impaired Italian instruments. Vuillaume put all the world in commotion with his violins of chemically prepared wood, and all the world sang hosannas. But when it was found that such instruments kept this tone only a short time, there arose a general prejudice against new violins and no one would play on them. In order to remove all such ideas and prejudices I can safely assert that violins of a free, high, clear and powerful character of tone, with a quality which thrills the heart--such tone as my instruments produce, and which qualities are now seldom found in the best Italian violins--can never be obtained by any artificial preparation of the wood, but only by way of science according to acoustic principles. Of course it is the wood more than anything else which is to be taken into consideration; for without the right sort of wood all science will be unavailing, and _vice versa_. Many violin makers can get the best wood, but where there is no talent applied in the construction, nothing very good can come forth. Of all productions of art, the violin is the most difficult to judge, and I have nearer illustrated the different characters of tone which violins produce, and tried to make these things more comprehensible, in order that this medley of opinions and judgments which have been given may be put in a clearer light. I was highly astonished at the manner in which my "Emperor" violin ("Kaiser" violin) was judged, which was sent to the Exhibition of Vienna three weeks after it had been finished. The violin had attracted not only many admirers, but also a great number of gazers who have no idea of a violin, and who stared at it only on account of its price. Thus, the New York _Staats Zeitung_ had a correspondent in Vienna, who also stared at the violin from the same reason. His ignorance, which he exposed in his correspondence to the newspaper which he represented, led him to make the following remark, which was published on the 27th of June, 1873, and runs as follows: "From Salzburg several violins, mostly the former property of Mozart and Beethoven, were sent, and the one which Beethoven owned was made by Hellmer, at Prague, in 1737, as was noted on the label, (saleable for 200 Florins,) while for a Gemünder violin in the American division of the Industrial Palace, $10,000 (!) are asked. Of course, everybody laughs at the simpleton who believes this is the only curiosity of the kind, and thinks he can obtain such a fabulous price for it. The Commission that for this time has made us very ridiculous with our 'Go ahead,' should remove that label as soon as possible, that one of the exhibitors may not become a public laughing stock." But that writer soon found how much this violin was admired; he learned to see that it was the only curiosity of the kind, in fact, for soon afterward I read again in the _Sontag's Staats Zeitung_ that "the violin was admired very much." This violin was exhibited by me for the purpose of proving to the world that I can make violins that have the tone which has been sought for a long time since the death of the celebrated Italian masters, since which all attempts have miscarried, and I confirmed this fact in a circular added to it. But what was the result? It was not believed. In the Exhibition of Vienna my violin was mistaken for a genuine Cremonese violin, not only for its tone, but for its outer appearance, which was so striking an imitation according to Joseph Guarnerius, that a newspaper of Vienna made the observation: "George Gemünder cannot make us Germans believe that the violin sent by him is new; a bold Yankee only can put his name in a genuine instrument, in order to make himself renowned!" Although this was the highest prize which a violin maker had ever obtained, it was no advantage either for me or the public; for the art of violin making was not furthered by it, but rather still more impaired by the correspondence of the _Staats Zeitung_ and the New York _Bellestristic Journal_. The latter writes as follows: "S. F., Pittsburg.--G. is a pupil of Vuilliaume; his violins are much demanded, but their prices are so high that purchasers are frightened!" Thirty years ago I sold violins at from $50 to $75; ten years ago I sold violins at from $100 to $300; now I sell them at $100 and upwards; and violin makers here and in Europe ask the same prices. Nay, amateurs who do best in their ignorance, ask still higher prices. Wherein, therefore, do we find that which frightens the purchasers? The effrontery of writers who make such statements as the above will bring them no honor. Many may still remember that I had determined to send six violins of different forms, copies of the best old master-violins, to the Vienna Exhibition, and intended myself to take the matter in hand, but, owing to an accident, I was compelled to give up this intention. In consequence, I resolved to send only one violin. To select one of them, artists such as Wollenhaupt, Dr. Damrosch, Carl Feinninger and others were consulted, but they differed in their opinions, which may be taken as a proof that the instruments were very much alike in character; they are also witnesses of the fact that I made them. In order to call attention to the one selected, I noted the price "ten thousand dollars!" Nobody, however, was charged to dispose of it, although three thousand dollars were offered. The circumstances connected with the construction of this violin gives it more than an ordinary interest. Ridicule and praise in the highest degree are interwoven with its history; therefore, it has been hitherto the most interesting new violin in this century. Why I could not be its representative and had to leave it to fate can be learned from what I have already written about it, and how I have judged every thing connected with it. I was, however, sure of one fact, namely, that it would be acknowledged as a production of art. The admission must then be made, and the claim is amply justified by facts, that, as new violins are frequently mistaken for genuine Italian instruments, even when most particular attention is given to the varnish, the art of violin making must no longer be considered as a lost one. May the foregoing satisfy all doubters and those who have lately, especially in America, written about the lost art of varnish and tone, and may it cause them in future to refrain from investigating into the so called lost arts. He who would give a scientific explanation of this art and be a critic, must be thoroughly acquainted with it. A TREATISE UPON THE MANNER IN WHICH MASTER-VIOLINS ARE RUINED. The manner in which violins are so often ruined seems almost beyond comprehension, or rather the way they are generally treated must necessarily involve their ruin. The cause of this can not be entirely ascribed to those destroyers of violins who pretend to be repairers, but it generally rests with the owners of violins themselves, because they are usually ignorant as to who is master of the art of violin making and to whom a master violin may be entrusted. They therefore make inquiries for such experts, and apply for that purpose, generally, to renowned violin players, not realizing that even these are not always endowed with discrimination, frequently not more so than the one asking advice, and thus the latter is led astray. To find an adept repairer is as difficult as to find a thorough master of the art of making violins; for the repairer must possess the same knowledge of the production of tone as the best violin maker. The man who cannot make excellent violins cannot be an excellent repairer. To obviate all doubts on the subject, I will state that the foundation of the whole secret is simply this "Every violin maker will make repairs in accordance with his knowledge, as he would make violins, and violins as he would make repairs!" This principle is so scientifically correct as to be conceded even by the most severe critics. Many a man achieves a reputation by certain meritorious accomplishments in which he has distinguished himself, and in consequence thereof everyone believes him an artist in the fullest meaning of the word. For instance, Ludwig Bausch, of Leipsig, gained a deserved and world wide celebrity as an artist in making bows. I also esteemed him as an excellent and very accurate worker. But to my astonishment I found, as I regret to say, that his fine repairs were mostly devoid of value, as also were his new violins, so far as the production of tone was concerned. But artists and amateurs, far and near, adored his useless repairs and new violins, which latter usually sold for high prices. Thus the public are unable to form a proper judgment in regard to the art. It would pain many a one, if they could realize the manner in which valuable violins are treated by such violin makers and repairers. Repairing violins, therefore, is as little understood as violins themselves, in consequence of which not only the interior of many an Italian instrument is ruined, but also the exterior is often deprived of its classical appearance by an alcoholic varnish, which is smeared over it and which impairs its value; and yet many owners of such instruments, who do not know any better, rejoice to see their violins with such a glossy surface. To rehabilitate a valuable instrument, and repair the exterior if necessary, requires a skill as artistic as the rehabilitation of a painting by a celebrated painter. Such instruments are also often peculiarly tortured by unskilled hands, and many a valuable top has been damaged by the operation of putting, or rather forcing, in the sounding post. Owners of violins should take particular precaution never to permit the cutting away of wood out of the bottom or top of a violin, without being fully satisfied that the repairer is an adept in the art. In Italian violins made by the old celebrated masters there is no necessity at all for doing this, as they have not as a rule any too much wood, and most of them are poor enough in this respect; in case those artists made no mistakes others have brought them in by their repairs. OF THE CAUSES WHY THE JUDGING OF VIOLINS AND THE REPAIRING OF THEM IS LESS UNDERSTOOD THAN OTHER ART PRODUCTIONS. Beautiful and interesting as is this art of making and repairing violins, and however great has been my enthusiastic devotion to it, I should never have engaged in it had I in starting possessed my present experience, for the ignorance which the public has shown by the confusion of opinions in this branch might almost make one believe these judgments emanated from a mad-house. Why is it we hear no such conflicting opinions about the productions of any other branch of industry or art? Because in no other business do we find so many pretenders. And why is it they infest this particular branch of business more than any other? Simply because the art of violin making is not founded on a correct system, and this may account for the medley of ideas which have been spread broadcast throughout the musical countries, except France, where a regular system is recognized. Yet in spite of the lack of correct system of making violins, I have become acquainted with a few German musicians who have acquired an excellent schooling in the art. In this respect I cannot refrain from mentioning my admiration for a thoroughly skilled musician, Mr. Herman Eckhardt, of Columbus, Ohio, a man of rare genius in the knowledge of music, who was able to define clearly and accurately the different periods of the progress I made in violin making. Such a man I must respect the more, because he is endowed with sound judgment, which other musicians, often of very high standing, could only acquire by instruction, a method which to some of them would seem to be impossible, as they are devoid of judgment, having their ability warped by false ideas about violins, and rendering them incapable of correctly understanding and appreciating the latest and best productions; this may account for their fanatical admiration of Italian violins, even if they possess only imitation, but, as "ignorance is bliss," they are happy. On the other hand, there are amateurs who take such a practical view of the matter that they are just opposite in their beliefs to this class of fanatics. They do not see why a new production, which answers the purpose as well and which in more ways than one is preferable to an old production of the same kind, should be regarded as of less value. They do not understand why a desirable article should command an enormous price when another article accomplishing the same effect can be bought much cheaper. And in this they show a common sense which might well be emulated by many others. While it is true that an enthusiast ought never to be blamed for his enthusiasm, if it has a reasonable base, it is no less true that lacking in this respect he is nothing more or less than a fanatic. This class of people is by no means exclusively confined to amateurs, but even includes in its ranks many true artists in music. ON THE PRESERVATION OF VIOLINS. There is no doubt that a certain class of violin players pay very little attention to the care of their instruments, as they use them daily, and few have time to bestow the necessary attention upon them. If a violin is out of order, a musician or amateur who knows nothing about it continues to play upon it. At length he perceives that the tone is not the same as it was before. Many, therefore, often lay the blame on the repairer, or on the violin maker, if it is a new instrument. It is therefore desirable that players should always pay attention to their instruments and examine them whenever they intend to use them, to see whether everything is in order; that the neck has not sunk a little to the front, causing the finger board to lie deeper on the top and the strings to lie somewhat too high. Such deviations will occur, particularly when the top is very much vaulted, as well as by change of weather or climate. As soon as the weather becomes moist it is advisable to keep a violin in a box; when the weather is fine it should be taken out of the box for a time every day; and even if it is a very old violin it is not good to keep it always locked up. A violin should never lie on a floor, whether in a box or not, but should always be kept on an elevated place and in a moderately warm temperature. Before using the violin it is advisable to rub it with a soft cloth or chamois, so that neither dust nor perspiration may remain on it; it should also be cleaned each time after being played upon. The sounding post should also be examined, to be sure that it still stands perpendicular. The bridge, too, must be looked at, and if it stands obliquely it must be brought into its normal position again before taking the bow. It usually inclines somewhat forward on the E string after tuning it. If this is the case, pinch the E string between the thumb and index finger, while the corresponding part of the bridge is moved backward by the points of the fingers. On good and excellent violins particular attention must be given to the bridge, especially when it fits the instrument, for it is not always easy to replace it with one equally good. A bridge which is qualified to affect the violin and contribute to the charm of tone of the instrument is more valuable than one would often think. Many consider a bridge of as little consequence as a string, when it breaks on the violin, and think they can restore the loss by a bridge which costs three cents; for the correct model of a bridge is considered only as an ornament by such people. Of course they do not know that this is one of the most important parts of good violins, and that there are but few violin makers who are able to make a bridge as it should be. But it is the same with the bridge as with the violin. It is not only the correct construction of the violin and bridge which produces a good tone, but the right sort of wood must be found for the purpose. Thus the bad form of a bridge made of fine wood is just the same as a common fiddle made of fine materials. It therefore follows that we should take as much care of a master bridge as of the violin itself. It some times occurs that the sounding post of the violin becomes shorter by itself; in this case it may be advisable to relax the strings entirely in order to see whether the sounding post does not fall. If this is the case, a new one must be made of old wood by a skilled workman. The cause of this is that the wood contracts more or less, especially in dry weather; this may also be caused by a change of air, which sometimes even produces a distortion of the swell of the top. When such care is habitually taken, a violin will always be in good order. Too low a sounding post causes a lower position of the top on that side, which, when not remedied, will remain and will produce a defect in the swell and tone. This is also the case when the sounding post is too high, and many violins are seen where the swell is higher or lower than it ought to be on the side where the sounding post stands. This is also the case with the bass-bar or so-called "soul" of a violin, which is just as mysterious a part of the violin as any one can imagine; and its quality shows the skill or ignorance of its maker. TO ILLUSTRATE HOW VIOLINS OF MY CONSTRUCTION MAY BE COMPARED WITH THE OLD ITALIAN MASTER-VIOLINS. From the foregoing treatises it will be seen with what energy I devoted myself to the art of making violins, and I can declare to the world with a good conscience that I have reached the standpoint in this art which has been striven for in vain during a century. I have studied all the characteristics in the construction of the Italian master violins, and have had extensive practice in imitating violins, as masters have made them, and have obtained an understanding which enables me to unite all good qualities of tone in the construction. As I am able to judge from experience, nobody can confute me. All those who doubt it or will dispute it can neither confute me scientifically, nor prove what they say. I have had a great many opportunities to hear and repair the best Italian violins myself, including Paganini's wondrous violin at Vuilliaume's, in Paris, and I can affirm that my "Kaiser" violin can be considered as wondrous a violin in regard to tone and character as--nay, it is even to be preferred to--that of Paganini's in many respects! I also make a peculiar kind of Maggini violin. For this purpose I have selected an older form than that which is generally known. I construct these violins in a manner to include all good qualities of tone, and they are, therefore, far preferable, because they surpass those of Stradivarius in greatness of tone. Such distinctions prove that I have made great progress in this art. Most Italian violins are now of interest only to admirers of art, and may be recommended to antiquarians, for there are only a very few still existing which can be used for concerts, and although if even their voice disappears more and more out of their body, they will always be valued, kept as relics and admired by friends of art. But it is only fancy which makes most of them adore what they do not understand, and they trample down the blossom of the new productions which the world brings forth. Therefore, it will be of some interest to many to hear more minute particulars about the method of construction of violins of the old Italian masters, as many persons are still in darkness as to which violins the best tone is to be ascribed. This want of knowledge comes simply from the fact that a combination of uninjured instruments of the best masters is a task very difficult to be effected, and these instruments would by all means have to be put in proper condition by an expert. This has, perhaps, never been done yet, and a general comparison could only be made as the opportunity presented itself. As I acquired knowledge of the system, the forms and swells of violins of the great masters, I also became so thoroughly familiar with the characteristics of tone that I have found out what the present needs require. I will now consider in detail the different characteristics of tone of the productions of the great masters, and state in what manner this difference was obtained. Jacob Stainer, at Absam, in Tyrol, was a pupil of Nicholas Amati, at Cremona. Stainer and Amati made violins which were mostly demanded by amateurs on account of their round, sweet, silver tone. This character of tone they produced by a small, round and some what oblong swell, as well as by a neat and somewhat smaller size than that of Stradivarius, who endeavored to gain a greater sonority of tone. Stradivarius, therefore, made the swell less high than Stainer or Amati, but of a broader circumference, drawn oblong, by which he obtained a sublime tone in an aristocratic and majestic form. Joseph Guarnerius del Jesu.--As long as he made violins according to the school of his great master, Stradivarius, his productions were of a similar nature. Later, he made somewhat smaller models, sometimes with a circumferential swell, by which he gained a somewhat smaller tone, but with a striking, quick touch of a peculiar brilliancy. It is strange that he gave a different form to each of his violins, the _f_, the swells and the scrolls varying in almost every instrument. It is told that he was imprisoned for a long time, and, under great deprivations, he made violins secretly. In all his productions his great genius is recognized. Duffu Prugar, at Bonninien, lived in the sixteenth century. His violins have a large and wide form, with interesting ornaments of carving work and inlay; their swells are beautiful, and as high as those of Stradivarius, and they produce a great and full tone. But as there are only few still existing, many violins are imitated in France according to this model, and they are spread far and wide. Maggini's violins are mostly of a large size and of a higher swell and fuller toward the extreme parts than all the other violins of the Italian masters, therein producing a great fulness of tone; on the G and D strings their color of tone is particularly deep. Gaspard da Salo made very interesting violins of small and large size; the former have a peculiar character of tone, not very strong but of a very clear color. These violins have a beautiful, high and round swell, similar to those of Jacobus Stainer, but those of a greater size are flatter, producing more power of tone, and are therefore better adapted for solo performances. These celebrated masters left us a great choice of different forms and swells, as well as their method of workmanship in regard to the top and bottom of their violins, where the proof is to be seen that they always made investigations in order to gain a greater perfection. Stradivarius and Joseph Guarnerius have especially obtained a beautiful quality of tone in their violins, yet in order to gain an easy touch of tone, they worked the top pretty tender, and in many instances they made the middle part of the top most thin, probably to further the easiness of sound still more. Such violins do not answer for concerts. It seems that at that time less attention was paid to such a power of tone as is required now, because only few of them have been found with an acceptable thickness of wood in the top and bottom. This is, therefore, the reason that so many Italian violins produce too weak a tone in concerts. Although Maggini left the top and bottom thicker in the middle part, still, most of his violins have not, on account of construction and deep color of tone, been received with favor like those of Stradivarius and Joseph Guarnerius. As only a few such Guarnerius and Stradivarius violins were found which by reason of their thickness of wood answered the purpose of solo violins, every one believed all their productions of a like character. Therefore, so many solo players often expose their ignorance by playing on such violins in concerts. Stradivarius instructed other pupils besides Joseph Guarnerius, who made excellent violins, and many of these violins still exist. As the most of them were made with the full thickness of wood, they produce a splendid tone, often better than some of those made by their great master. This teaches us that he who wishes to possess an Italian violin on account of its tone cannot depend upon finding it by the name alone, but he has to pay all his attention to the discovery of those in which the necessary thickness of wood is found. A solo player, therefore, should never play a violin on account of its name alone, for if the violin produces a weak tone, the blame will be laid on him, and so much the more because it is generally supposed that such instruments must be master violins. ART EXHIBITIONS.--HOW VIOLINS ARE EXAMINED AND JUDGED. First of all I will take America into consideration, where the art of making violins is too little understood to be judged. Commissioners of exhibitions like those, for instance, of the late Centennial, have no idea of violins, and, therefore, are unable to appoint judges competent to award the premiums. It would be too much to ask that they should themselves be such connoisseurs, for the violin is still considered as a fiddle in this country, and it may still take a long time before the people here reach the standard of knowledge and appreciation which Europe occupies. Therefore, only very few real violin makers are found here, for most of them are only amateurs doing business in this branch. In the Centennial exhibition in Philadelphia, in the United States Department, were found mostly such amateur violins. I have heard that all those who called themselves violin makers received a premium. The judges were either unequal to the requirements of their office or they desired to offend nobody. If the latter be the case they certainly acted generously if not justly. But exhibitions of art were established for the purpose of finding out in which way the different articles of industry and art compare with each other. Proper examinations can be made only by professional men, otherwise only that fiddle that "cries" the most will attract the greatest attention. Justice will never prevail in such exhibitions, owing either to want of knowledge in order to be able to judge who has deserved a premium, or to favoritism, for merit can hope least, especially in Europe. Artists there can only receive acknowledgment if they have the means to spend. The Centennial exhibition, however, was not guilty of such a wrong; here it was the desire to be as just as possible to all, although not every one could be satisfied. To act in the capacity of an awarder is always a thankless task; whether the judge has or has not the necessary knowledge, discontent is sure to follow, because the conceited man who has been unrewarded does not see the difference between his production and the better one of his co-exhibitor, but an injustice is done to an artist, if through favoritism a premium is awarded to an inferior production. Exhibitions, however estimable they may be, are still very imperfect in regard to their organization; in Europe they have been for years entirely corrupt, and are now called into existence mostly by speculators. The true principle has been lost sight of and taken a corrupt form. It is scarcely to be expected that the time will come when the many defects which have crept in will be removed again, for all these failings which have manifested themselves throw a shade over such exhibitions, and the time is not far distant when they will be entirely disregarded, if not reorganized on a different basis. But I believe that they will never attain great perfection, even if taken in hand by the Government, for so long as a system of awards is connected therewith, mistakes and discontent cannot be avoided. Managers of exhibitions are not always competent to appoint the proper professional men and experts as judges; and as those appointed lack the necessary qualifications, dissatisfaction ensues. But suppose the awards were made with proper knowledge and strictest impartiality, what then? What have the remaining competitors gained who are less gifted by nature, and therefore could not receive any award? Nothing but mortification and an impaired business. Is this fair on the part of human society? Not every one can be an artist. The offering of premiums has for its object the promotion of industry; but the majority of exhibitors can never achieve distinction by reason of lack of talent, and must consequently be considered as excluded from their line of business. Are we not bound to consider them as our fellow brethren and to care for them as well as for those receiving premiums? But the present generation does not seem to have any thoughts about this, for there are but very few men who are still animated with noble impulses; while the majority are striving to ruin their fellow men by greediness. In my opinion such exhibitions cannot continue any longer, because justice can never be expected, and the chase for the highest premium in order to outdo others, has not only become ridiculous, but also immoral. If I were the richest man, it should never come into my mind to strive for a premium which I must purchase through so-called leeches. There are, however, connoisseurs who know how to distinguish that which is better from that which is less good. As long as such exhibitions are based on such rotten principles, I find no longer any interest as an exhibitor in striving for a premium, and as I gained the highest moral premium in the exhibition at Vienna in 1873, on this account I did not compete for any premium as an exhibitor in the Centennial exhibition at Philadelphia! NOTE ABOUT DILETTANTI VIOLIN MAKERS. Whoever takes an interest in violin making will undoubtedly be pleased to hear more particulars in regard to dilettanti violin makers and their patrons. There are some dilettanti violin makers in America who consider violin making their business, and there are others who do not make it their chief business. They have their own particular patrons, who in the knowledge of violins are on the same level with themselves; but it cannot be denied that in the productions of some of these violin makers there is talent discernable; if these persons could have had proper instruction, more good violin makers would be found than are now in existence. But as long as dilettanti violin makers remain as such, only dilettanti violins will be produced; for without proper instruction it is impossible to obtain either a correct knowledge of the exterior formation or a correct knowledge of the production of tone. It is true, that every piece of wood over which strings have been stretched will sound, and every such instrument will have its admirers. There are, however, dilettanti violin makers whose self-conceit and boldness is simply astonishing. The professional will understand this, for if a self-conceited man could see clearly and look into the matter, he would be astonished at his workmanship, as I was once myself. As dilettanti usually lack that practice which is peculiar to the regular violin makers, they very often experiment in all kinds of machines by which they expect to lighten manual labor; their object, however, is mostly reached in a very roundabout manner, although they believe to have made an improvement, and this improvement they announce to the public as a great success. As most of their patrons have no knowledge of the matter, such a dilettante appears to them as an extraordinary genius. This supposition would perhaps not be disputed if it did not take considerably more time to execute with their machines a certain amount of work than the practical workman requires simply by the dexterity of his hand. A dilettante violin maker can never be a thorough workman, and is entitled to be considered only as a "jack-of-all-trades;" he has a great many kinds of tools which the regular violin maker never uses. Many dilettanti are presumptuous enough to believe themselves further advanced in theoretical knowledge concerning tone than the most experienced violin maker of the present day. Some of them ask, in consequence, a great deal higher price for a violin of their own make than does any regular violin maker for his. But it seems to me that such persons are often only the tools of Ole Bull, a once celebrated violinist with extravagant ideas, who misled them. They, however, believe to have learned from him the true secret of the art of violin making. He also tried to persuade them into the belief that when _new_ violins sound well and are serviceable for concerts they are made of chemically prepared wood. If such pretended wise man would have some knowledge of wood, he ought to be able to distinguish wood which is chemically prepared and that which is not! About this point I have already sufficiently explained my opinion. To give the wood the old natural color which is peculiar to the Italian violins, in a great measure depends on the material used, for not every wood intended for violin making has the necessary qualifications. Violins made from such selected wood are therefore especially valuable. It cannot now appear strange that the general public has so little knowledge in the judging of violins, when a world renowned violinist like Ole Bull shows such ignorance. Here in America the latter preferred the company of dilettanti violin makers, for the reason that they were generally willing to listen to his ideas, and some of them have studied now so much that they cannot see any clearer nor hear any better. Dilettanti violin makers form a peculiar class of violin makers in America; and they seem to be born for the sphere of such knowledge as is here shining forth. Their patrons write articles for them in which they try to instruct the public by their ignorance, as we find, for instance, in the Philadelphia _Times_, of August 30th, 1879: "Gemünder refuses to state the source of supply for his wood, and it is a well-known fact that he and others use at times chemical preparations for the purpose of changing the character and the appearance of their wood." The writer of this notice made a statement without any foundation. Had he and his train a proper knowledge of the matter, they would be able to perceive that the material of my violins is not chemically prepared and the character of the wood has not undergone any change whatever. It is presumptuous in ignorant persons to make such statements against a man of long experience, for the purpose of bringing his productions into discredit; productions which are proofs in themselves that not a single violin can come into the condition of those manufactured of chemically prepared wood, as those of Vuilliaume in Paris. But such individuals manifest not only a prejudice against a better understanding, but also are impertinent, from which stupidity and meanness emanate; and thus they unmask themselves as false experts. The cause for this assertion will have to be found, and for the disbeliever there is no other ground in the advantages I have gained by my studies, which to them seem impossible; and as the Italian violins are generally acknowledged the only good instruments, they try almost anything to oppose what has proven itself so gloriously, rather than acknowledge it as a fact. Truth, however, can never be overruled, and the time will come which will impose silence on such individuals! Since mankind inhabits the earth their characters are as different as we find different plants. Many a flower is not fragrant, and how many stately and celebrated men are heartless! Those, therefore, who are void of generosity are able to do evil. Those classes who are as it were idle weeds, for the kinds are both useful and hurtful to men; all that nature produces has a meaning. If we could fathom all the secrets of nature we would also be able to understand the meaning of them, and idle weeds could be less hurtful. But in nature there lies a wisdom which remains a secret to mortal man. GOOD LUCK AND ART, AND REMARKS ABOUT VIOLINS. It is an incontestable fact that the success of the endeavors of men to gain a livelihood depends upon luck, although many are of different opinion, especially those who are always favored by good luck, as they ascribe their success to their enterprise and skill. They do not consider that good luck only has offered them a chance. Many become wealthy without being gifted with peculiar knowledge, while many others, in spite of all their knowledge and genius, endeavour in vain and do not see their efforts rewarded. It is, therefore, a matter of fact, that neither art nor science produce wealth, unless they are favored by good luck, and the cases are innumerable which prove this. From the many experiences in my life, especially in my profession, I will only mention the following: Vuilliaume, of Paris, was favored by nature in a very high degree in every thing; he was not only the greatest artist in his profession in Europe during the present century, but also an excellent business man, and good luck smiled on him in all his enterprises. Lupot, his partner, laid the foundation of Vuilliaume's independence by effecting a marriage between him and a very rich lady of nobility. Thus he became not only a celebrated man, but also the richest violin maker of our time. Although some of his violins of prepared wood incurred discredit, nevertheless there were admirers who bought his violins, even in America, where the prejudice against new violins is so prevalent, on account of the supposition that the wood of them was chemically prepared, a practice of which they so stupidly and unjustly accused me, and thereby caused a great deal of harm to my business. On the other hand, Vuilliaume, who really prepared his wood in a chemical manner, was lucky and prosperous. What is the reason of this and where is it to be found, and why does good luck generally lie in the opposite extreme? The solution of this secret will probably remain undisclosed to mortals. Upon whomsoever fortune smiles, and whom she allows to blow the golden horn, he penetrates the world, his name becomes great, and he produces upon mankind that effect which persuades them into the belief that the best can be found only in him. If Vuilliaume had been a poor man he would have certainly remained poor, especially in America, where the art of violin making is still less understood than in Europe, and unjust reports will be more readily listened to than anywhere else. In Europe there was a general supposition that a pretty good demand for old Italian violins existed in America, in consequence of which dealers in old and new violins found their way hither. In disposing of these instruments they were not very scrupulous in regard to the information, and sometimes gave them names according their own fancy. A great many so-called Italian violins and violoncellos came in this way to America, and the owners are happy in the imaginary possession of an Italian instrument. Other persons again entertain the idea that they are surer of a genuine article if it comes from Europe, as there is their home; but if it is believed that this is always the surer way, it is a mistake. It requires an extraordinary study to recognize the maker of an instrument, and understand the dead language of the violin. Thus it must not be believed that the instruments claimed to be Italian are always genuine; the seller himself may sometimes be mistaken. Many owners of such "baptized" violins do not always like to be informed of the real origin of the instrument by a person of thorough knowledge. Sometimes I feel constrained to give an opinion by virtue of my knowledge, but it must not be expected of me to admire a thing that is not genuine, as those owners do in their ignorance. If, however, a genuine and valuable Italian violin has lost any part, and if a violin maker possesses the art to restore the missing part, either in imitating the varnish or in adapting the lost part to the character of the violin, so that the instrument reappears in its originality so completely that the connoisseur is deceived, the value of the violin is in that case not impaired. This also occurs in regard to very valuable old pictures, and the artist who is found to be able to execute such work is well paid. Such artists are, perhaps, more to be esteemed than the maker of the original, as they are rare, especially those who are able to restore the originality of valuable old violins. The instruments lose their value in case the repairs cannot be carried out properly, owing to a want of genius upon the part of the repairer. I have often shown this art in exceptional repairs; but what can be gained by it? The greater number of those who own violins do not know how to appreciate such skilful work, and, in their ignorance, they attempt to do harm in the bargain, when they hear that they must for such repairs, perhaps, pay somewhat more than usual--an additional proof of how great the darkness still is in judging this art. The time when a better understanding in this regard will come to daylight is still far off! And why? Because all other arts and branches of industry are based upon solid ground, as the State governments protect them, and, therefore, they can come to a proper degree of perfection. The art of making violins does not enjoy this privilege (except in France) and it hovers mostly in the fog since the death of the celebrated Italian masters. Therefore, it can yet be called only a fancy art. The opportunity which has been given to mankind in this century to make this science general has not been regarded, because the confidence and belief in it has been wanting, and it will disappear like a drowning person, who several times comes up out of the water, but who, at last, is overwhelmed. Instead of endeavoring to save this art in its details, it is ignored by self-interest. But such an aversion to the best modern productions is sometimes punished very severely, as want of knowledge often brings common productions into the possession of individuals. Since the death of Tariso, the great collection of violins, etc., which he gathered from all the regions of Europe, has been scattered again over all countries. Vuilliaume, who bought many of them, afterward resold some to violin makers and dealers; those instruments which were put in order by them are easily recognized. This collection consisted mostly of all characters of Italian instruments, from the most commonplace to the celebrated Stradivarius. In many an admirer an interest may have been awakened thereby to possess one of these instruments. But it must not be expected that all of those violins still possess their original parts. Had not such amateurs as Tariso--and they are not rare in Europe--bought those instruments of that time and kept them safely, which contributed to their longer preservation, they would, especially if they had been always used, be in a much worse condition. George Hart, of London, is also such a gatherer of and dealer in instruments. John Hart, the father of George Hart, whose personal acquaintance I made at Vuilliaume's, in Paris--when I was engaged to make for him a set of Stradivarius heads, from that of violin up to that of contra-basso, which should serve as models--undertook to gather such old Italian violins for the purpose of selling them again to other persons. From that firm there came, in fact, some specimens of the celebrated Italian masters to America, and they are interesting and very well preserved. I have seen and admired them; they are in possession of an amateur at Hartford, Conn. Here they are preserved again for the coming generation. Violin players look with envy upon such violins in the hands of amateurs, but it is fortunate that most of them have come into such hands, for violins of this kind are very delicate, and although those which are well kept produce a beautiful tone, most of them have not that power of tone which is necessary for concerts. The solo player, however, believes he must produce the strong tone of a violin by force, which breaks the tone, and is not heard distinctly. In this manner such violins are tortured and ruined. When such well kept violins continue to be well preserved, they may be the same after a hundred years. Such relics will then, no doubt bring still higher prices from those who wish to possess a violin of that kind. But it is strange that some amateurs put a particular value upon a violin which has been in the possession of a rich nobleman, as if it is more likely to be genuine in that case? What a foolish idea! Such whims are not entertained by connoisseurs. There are enough aristocrats who possess only a fiddle, especially in America, and who know nothing about the value of a violin; it is rarely that they have at home a violin which is worth over five or ten dollars. When many of them hear that thousands of dollars are paid for violins, they think that persons who pay these prices must be crazy. The reason of this is that most of them know no difference between a ten dollar fiddle and a violin which costs as many hundreds of dollars! Amateurs who pay thousands of dollars for a violin are here in America just as isolated as that enthusiast who paid six hundred dollars for the first ticket of the first concert given by Jenny Lind in New York, and the other who paid ten dollars for his admittance in order to be able to see the six hundred dollar man. Thus I believe to have unrolled a panorama which will assist in the dissemination of knowledge and truthful views, which have only been obtained by a long experience. OF THE MANNER OF PLAYING--TREATMENT OF BRIDGES ETC. It has often occurred to me that violin players of all kinds find fault when the strings are not arranged in the manner to which they are accustomed, and almost every one believes his method to be correct. This subject shall be discussed here, so that a clearer insight may be obtained and the correct method ascertained. There are violin players who have a greatly arched bridge, and others a very flat one, on their instruments. The latter, therefore, more than the former, have the advantage of being able to play on all violins, because they are accustomed to a bridge which is flatter. These different methods mostly arise from the different arrangements of the violins upon which pupils learn to play. Ole Bull was an exception to this rule; with him it was not chance; of all violin players he used the flattest bridge on his violin; but it was his principle. His music pieces required it, and in his method he became a master. I. B. Poznanski played at one time on a violin with almost as flat a bridge as that on Ole Bull's instrument, and I believe it will not have been forgotten that he produced, as if by charm, a great tone from his instrument. This proves that a great tone can be gained on a flat bridge. Therefore it depends only on the skill with which the bow is handled. Many violin players, however, are of opinion that they must press the bow on the strings very much, in order to bring forth a strong tone on the violin; but the pressure of the bow is limited; for when it is too strong, the ear becomes disgusted with the tone, nay, a scraping and jarring tone is produced by too strong a pressure, because the G string touches the finger-board in this case, in consequence of which many violin players wish to have the finger-board very hollow. But it must not be believed that in such a manner the right tone is produced; on the contrary, the full tone, which lies ready in the violin, is very easy to be gained by the knowledge and skill of handling the bow. The rule is, that the tone must be drawn forth by the bow, and it must not be forced forth by pressure. The bow must not be led oblique, but straight over the strings, so that the hair lies flat on them; it also depends on the flexibility of the arm, that the bow may not touch the strings stiffly, but in an elastic manner. Those who attract attention to their elbows cannot expect that the bow and the violin alone will do their service. The most perfect condition of a violin requires the instrument to be so arranged that it can be played easily; therefore, I determine that the height of the strings must be three-sixteenths of an inch at the end of the finger-board, and that the arch of the bridge must have the same measure, three-sixteenths of an inch, between its two extremes, for bridges more arched than this cause difficulties to the player, because the movement of the bow is too much abstracted when passing from the E string to the G string. In such a manner, David in Leipsic had the violins arranged for his pupils. On such arched bridges the two middle strings lie too high from the top towards the G string and E string, and it is an acoustical mistake, because it produces an inequality of the character of tone. Such knowledge should be taught to the pupils in conservatories of music; but it is generally believed that when a violin player has been made a professor he is able to satisfy the requirements of his position in this regard. For the benefit of the learner, however, I will enter more nearly upon the knowledge which is required, especially in a conservatory, and to the imparting of which the teacher should attend. First I will mention as an example the conservatory at Leipsic when it was under the management of Director David. Most of his scholars were then compelled to play on new violins made by Bausch, which for their stiff and tough tone are for the greater part unfit for those who would become artists. This quality of tone, together with the fact that students were forced into a certain position and fatigued, caused them to become nervous; but many parents who had no knowledge of it, sent their sons to that institute, even from America, and they had no idea that many of them brought back a nervous disease and were thus ruined. I heard this of no other conservatory in Europe. Thus it would appear that David pursued his own interest rather than that he cared for the good of his pupils. Here in America we have violin teachers whose methods are preferable by far to such. The following is a method according to which students should be instructed: The student must not be forced into a position of holding the violin so as to cause the ruin of health, but on the contrary, by means of a free position and natural holding of the violin the chest will be enlarged. This does not only benefit the health, but also facilitates the learning and progress. It is of the greatest importance that students learn on violins which have good tone, for instruments which have a bad quality of tone usually discourage the beginner, so that he becomes nervous and soon considers playing an unpleasant work, and gives it up without knowing the reason why. Teachers, therefore, should have the necessary knowledge of the qualities which a violin must possess. A knowledge indispensable for them and a great benefit for the learner. For only a good tone has a charming influence upon the mind, and owing to this many beginners advance early to a high degree of perfection; therefore it must also be in the interest of the students to get familiar with the good tone of a violin, that their ear may not be accustomed to a sickly tone. Alas! This point is mostly disregarded by their parents, who have little or no knowledge of a violin, and it provokes some indignation in scientifically instructed teachers to teach their pupils on miserable fiddles. If a teacher knows how a violin should be arranged, it is above all his duty to examine the instrument, and ascertain whether it can be used for the instruction of a learner; for as the violin is first arranged for him so he will ever be accustomed to have it afterward. For instance, on the violin of the solo player Ed. Mollenhauer, the strings lie on the finger-board lower than on any other that I ever saw. No doubt he has learned on such an instrument. It is true that the virtuosoship is facilitated, but the strength of tone is impaired by such an arrangement. The ingenious artist Brume, however, was so great a master that he played even on violins the strings of which lay very high, although he did not know this. Many, again, are accustomed to bridges that are very much curved towards the E string, because they did not know, when learning, how badly their violins were arranged. A correct system must be the foundation of everything, but as the theories in this art are still dead letters for most violin players, there have arisen fantastical ideas, especially among the greatest of them. Ole Bull did his best to impart such ideas to others, yet many of them were, no doubt, excellent. Ole Bull always had a vehement desire to find something better beyond all possibility. Many of his ideas were contradictory to all the rules, and although he put some in practice he did not persevere in any of them for a long time, for a new idea occurring to him all others were supplanted by it. It happened once that Ole Bull was visited in New York by another artist, who was called the "American Sivori." He, as well as many others thought that Ole Bull had a perfect knowledge of the structure of violins. Sivori, seeing that Ole Bull had a bridge on his violin which stood quite oblique--for the upper part of the bridge was bent backwards by a quarter of an inch,--adopted this idea. When his violin had been provided with such a bridge he came to me, and with great satisfaction he showed me this queer position of the bridge on his violin. I was highly astonished at him that he could approve of an idea which is against all correct theory and is nothing but a farce. I then explained to him not only the consequences which must arise from it, but also the impossibility, by such an arrangement, of bringing to bear an even horizontal pressure on the bridge. But he thought that which came from Ole Bull was better than that which came from my knowledge. Let us see what happened later. In a concert of his, while he was playing with enthusiasm, the bridge fell and broke! Another day an Italian artist came with his Maggini violin to show me where the sounding post must stand in his violin, having obtained his information about it from Ole Bull. I could not help smiling when I saw that the sounding post was placed quite near the _f_ hole. Upon expressing my surprise, he replied with the following insult: "What do you know about the position of the sounding post? You are no violin player like Ole Bull, therefore you cannot know about it." My answer simply was: "Only a fool can talk to me in that way, and very soon you will find out that you will have to give up such an insane idea!" It was on the third day after that he came back begging me to place the sounding post in his violin according to my judgment. When he had apologized for his indiscretion, I fulfilled his wish. Thus I have become acquainted with several artists who constantly tortured their violins by getting the sounding post and bass-bar displaced. This proves a want of correct theoretical knowledge, and through this ignorance they make the sounding post wander about the whole violin. The place of the sounding post can only be ascertained through the theoretical knowledge of the construction of the bottom and top of the violin. Many players think they can obtain the right tone by the position of the sounding post alone, but no sounding post can make good a fault in the construction of the bottom and top. CIRCULAR WHICH ACCOMPANIED MY "EMPEROR VIOLIN" IN THE VIENNA EXHIBITION OF 1873--AN INTERESTING EXPLANATION ABOUT VIOLINS AND OF THE SCIENCE OF TONE. It is an indisputable fact, that of all productions of art in the world, the violin has been least understood. This wonderful instrument has remained an enigma to the musical world until now. How fortunate it is that this instrument does not understand human language, by which circumstance it escapes that medley of critical remarks which are made in its regard. It is, therefore, in the interest of art and its votaries that I have determined to present herewith to the public the results of my long experience obtained in making violins, and in examining those sciences connected with it. It is generally known that up to the earlier part of the eighteenth century the Italian masters made the best violins, and with the death of those artists a decline of that art, too, took place. Those so-called classical instruments have been, especially of late years, eagerly sought at high prices, by all artists and amateurs, because a settled opinion has taken hold of their minds that nobody is able to construct a violin which is fit for solo performances; that the secret which the old Italian masters possessed is not yet found, and that new violins, although constructed according to the rules of acoustics, cannot gain the desired perfection until after the use of a hundred years. This, therefore, animated many violin makers with an endeavor to overcome that difficulty, but in vain; at last Vuillaume, of Paris, was impressed with the thought of making wood look old by a chemical process, and he succeeded in creating a furor with his instruments made of such wood, so that people began to believe the right course was being pursued. It turned out, however, that after a few years those instruments deteriorated, and finally became useless and proved a failure. This especially prejudices the minds of the virtuosi so far that they do not believe it to be possible to make violins which answer the general requirements of concert playing until they have attained a great age. Vuillaume has, therefore, by his chemical preparation of wood, injured this art seriously, because the previous prejudice was corroborated thereby. Such prejudices stand in the way of progress in making good violins. But as everything in the world is going on, so the art of the construction of violins has not remained behindhand, and I can prove this to the musical world by my own experience. To the knowledge of making such violins as artists and amateurs demand, there belong besides ingenuity in carrying out the mechanical work a knowledge of the following three sciences, namely: mathematics, acoustics and the choice of wood. A knowledge of acoustics, which is most indispensable to the violin maker, cannot always be acquired, since it emanates from an innate genius, which makes itself manifest in the very choice of the wood. When by the aid of these sciences I had arrived by a natural proceeding at what I aspired, I made violins in imitation of the old Italian instruments and presented them to great artists and connoisseurs, and the highest authorities of Europe and America. They pronounced them to be genuine old Italian violins, not only on account of tone, but also in regard to form and appearance. In this manner I broke that prejudice. I proved to the so-called "connoisseurs" that those violins laid before and acknowledged by them to be good, were of my making, hence they were new. If I had presented those violins as new productions of my own to those gentlemen, they would have condemned them forthwith and said that they would not prove good till they had reached a great age, and that they would perhaps in a hundred years equal the old Italian instruments. In general, however, it is not taken into consideration that if a violin is not scientifically constructed the good quality of tone will never be obtained, either by much playing or by age. In applying the three above mention sciences I have gained not only the fine quality of tone, but also that ease with which the tones are made to come forth. But we must be thankful to the great masters; they have laid for us the foundation of the manufacture of violins, by which they became immortalized. Their system, however, is but little understood by the present violin makers, because very few intelligent people devote themselves to this art, and the most of those who are learning it, practice it not in the way of art, but of business. What wonder, when even the greatest artist in Europe, Vuillaume, imitated the very mistakes which the great Italian masters made in regard to mathematical division. He did not consider that they, in improving the art, made experiments in regard to form, swell and different thicknesses in working out the bottom and top. But there are a great many professional men who, from exaggerated veneration, consider all productions of those masters as law and beyond correction. I have discovered that the old masters did not arrive at perfection, but made mistakes in their mathematical division and in the workmanship of the different thicknesses of the bottom and top. Those faults I have endeavored to avoid in the manufacture of my violins, and I think I have solved this problem. Just so it is with the knowledge of tone. It is a great mistake to believe that it is only the player who has this knowledge. Experience has taught that playing and knowledge of tone are two different provinces, because the artist very seldom has an opportunity to make close study of the different qualities of tone, and is usually prepossessed with his own instrument. If many solo performers had more knowledge of tone they would not so often play in concerts on feeble instruments, which are too old, too defective in construction, or have been spoiled by bungling workmen who were employed to repair them. Such instruments often injure the solo performer exceedingly, and the critic is right in charging the fault to feebleness of tone. But the artist is generally satisfied if he only possesses an Italian violin. Also in the science of tone I have found the way to gain that experience by which I have been enabled to make a violin which will satisfy an unprejudiced solo performer of the present and future. I have confined myself to the natural process which the Italian violins underwent, and I have put the problem to myself that it must lie within the bounds of possibility to construct violins which will bring forth good tones at once and not depend on a promising future for all their good qualities, and I have not been mistaken, but have secured what I sought. Many are still of opinion that the art of making violins and predetermining the qualities of tone, is a mere accident. This is, if taken in a general sense, true, because most of those who make violins scarcely know any more of it than a joiner, but the ability to construct violins according to the rules of art, requires a man who has enjoyed a technical education, and whoever has acquired the necessary capabilities knows the method by which the different qualities of tone may be produced and obtained. Above all, he who occupies himself with repairs can least dispense with these capabilities, since he is often intrusted with the most valuable instruments; but alas! with what inconsideration do those who possess such instruments often give them, for repair, to botchers and fiddle makers. This proves how great in this regard is the lack of correct judgment. Through such spoilers of violins most Italian violins have come to naught, because many who own such instruments think that whenever any one makes a neat piece of work and knows how to use his chisel, file and sandpaper, he is the man to be intrusted with such instruments. But where there is a lack of science, the repairer's work, be it ever so neat, may cause damage in half an hour which will be greater than can ever be made good again. If a violin maker constructs bad instruments it is his own damage, but to make bad repairs is to ruin the instruments of others, the creations of masters. Neither is a violin maker who does not know how to construct excellent instruments a good repairer. Yet there are many who think that good repairers need not possess the knowledge of making good violins. But what a mistake! It seems, however, wisely ordained by nature that even he who is less gifted and less learned may enjoy life, and thus gladly bear sacrifices in consequence of his error. This is the plain and simple explanation of matters in regard to the manufacture of violins and the knowledge of tone, and those to whom this does not seem comprehensible may submit to a more thorough experience than they have gained until now; in this case they will, after they have fully convinced themselves of it, sometimes remember G. G. A REPLY TO MR. E. SCHELLE'S CRITIQUE CONCERNING THE VIOLINS IN THE EXHIBITION OF VIENNA IN THE LEIPSIG "NEUE ZEITSCHRIFT FUR MUSICK," No. 52, 1873. In the foregoing circular, treating upon violins, I said: "It is indisputable that no production of art in the world has been less understood than the violin." This truth has proved good again in Mr. Schelle's critique concerning violins, and it shows how little he is able to judge about them! In his very introduction it is plainly shown that he has made no studies in regard to tone when he says: "Thus an idea came to Vuillaume to make, by a chemical preparation, wood to look like that of the old violins. Instruments made of this material excel in regard to their splendid and real Italian tone." Against this I assert just the contrary and can prove it to be nonsense by the fact that wood, when submitted to a chemical process, will produce a dry, covered tone, and the noble quality of tone--that which affects the heart--is lost. Mr. Schelle then says: "We may also discover a similar experiment in the instrument which Mr. George Gemünder, of New York, has in the exhibition, under the ostentatious name of Kaiser Violin (Emperor Violin). Of course its manufacturer would protest against this insinuation, for in a little pamphlet he declares that by the assistance of three sciences, the mathematics, acoustics and knowledge of the wood to be chosen, he had not only comprehended the system of Italian school, but had even discovered errors in it, etc." Mr. Schelle further says: "There have been many celebrated violin makers who were gifted with the same talents and learned in the same sciences, yet they could not reach what they aimed at, in spite of their most strenuous efforts. We confess quite openly that in spite of his assurance we harbor the suspicion that Mr. Gemünder has taken refuge in a chemical preparation of the wood. The violin in question, a faithful imitation according to Guiseppe Guarnerius, is indeed beautiful in its appearance and has a very excellent tone. But the extravagant, really American, price of ten thousand dollars could only be excused when its excellence should have been proven good in future," etc. From this (Mr. Schelle's) critique it is evident that he has tried to throw into the shade the interesting production of art which I had in the exhibition, in order to be enabled to put the productions of the Vienna violin makers in a more favorable light. But this proves that only such persons as are destitute of sufficient knowledge to judge of violins may be transported to such one-sided critiques, dictated either by partiality or other interests; for if that were not the case Mr. Schelle ought to have blushed with shame in regard to that injustice and disrespect with which he illustrated the experience of an artist and spoke of his talents and sciences, to which Mr. Schelle is as much a stranger as he is to the artist's person! As Mr. Schelle takes into consideration that the violin at ten thousand dollars exhibited by myself must first undergo "a proof of time," it may be rather advisable for Mr. Schelle to take a lesson of Gemünder, that he may learn those characters of tones which will prove good in future and which will not; so that he may be able hereafter to show better knowledge in his critique upon violins! From my childhood I have grown up in this art in Germany and have devoted myself to all those studies which are connected with it. The last four years in Europe I passed at Vuillaume's in Paris, consequently I am acquainted with the entire European knowledge of the construction of violins. Since 1847 I have made violins in America, therefore my instruments do not require to be subjected to a "proof of time," for it is without such a one that I have solved the problem and secured at once the fine tone which all the preceding violin makers strove in vain to find. I obtained my purpose in quite a natural way. This knowledge, however, does not lie in an object whose secret is only to be secured by a patent; it lies purely in the gifts of man. Another century may pass by before this problem will be solved again. The closing page in Mr. Schelle's critique sounds like a lawyer's pleading in favor of a criminal. In this regard his writing is quite creditable, for he has well pleaded the cause of the violin makers of Vienna! But then those words in my circular about violin makers proved true again: "This wonderful instrument has still remained an enigma to the musical world until now. How fortunate it is that it does not understand human language, by which circumstance it escapes the medley of opinions which have been given in regard to it." When, however, its clear tone was heard, and the easiness with which the tones came was noticed, then it became an enigma to professional men and they declared that this violin was an original fixed up again! But later, when it was objected to and found to be a new Gemünder violin, it was ignored even in the newspapers. The _Neue Wiener Tageblatt_, of Vienna, called it afterwards "the false Cremona violin!" How envy here glared forth again; for this violin was not exhibited as a Cremona violin, although it has been demonstrated that it had been previously really taken for a genuine Italian instrument. Its introduction as "Emperor Violin" had a force and pungency which tickled the professionals, and what surpasses all belief is, that they themselves crowned the work. It was, indeed, the greatest premium that I could gain, in spite of all the pains which those men gave to themselves to deprive me of my merit. Thus a moral prize values higher than a piece of metal? Although many mocked at the high price, yet no such violin could be made by all those deriders, should millions of dollars be offered to them. Therefore an unrivaled artist has the right to fix any price on his productions. Although an offer of $3,000 was made for it, yet nobody was charged to sell it, even if $10,000 had been presented. The newspaper of the exhibition of Vienna, published on the 17th of August, 1873: "Gemünder found fault with the Italian constructions and those of Vuillaume." If Gemünder had not extended his studies so far he would probably not have stirred up those matters which had given such a headache to those people of Vienna, for George Gemünder became thoroughly acquainted with both the faultless and the faulty points of the Italians in the construction of violins. If those people of Vienna had had the good luck to discover imperfections on the above mentioned constructions, then they would have made a great cry about it. The same newspaper says in another passage: "The tone of this violin is indeed strong and beautiful and has an easiness that pleases, also it has not that young tone peculiar to the very best new violins." In saying these words the writer confesses the truth in his innocence, and this verdict crowns this violin again, because this character of tone is just that one which all violin makers in the nineteenth century have been trying in vain to find. And further: "For this reason some professional men gave vent to the suspicion that the wood was submitted to an artificial preparation, probably by the use of borax." Such was the nonsense to which this peerless violin was subjected, since there was none to take up its defence. _The annexed description in which all chemical preparations were peremptorily opposed, was entirely disregarded by them._ Thus there is no other way to advise those pseudo-professional men to have such borax violins made and patented! To those gentlemen who call themselves professional men, I, George Gemünder, declare that I am ready at any time to sacrifice my "Emperor violin" or any other which I have made, and I propose to give it to the best chemists in the world to be cut to pieces, that they may examine the wood and ascertain if any chemical preparation has been used. If this is found to be the case they may be allowed to scold and blame me publicly as much as they please; but, if nothing of that kind is found, they are to pay ten thousand dollars for the "Emperor violin." Address: GEORGE GEMUNDER. ASTORIA, NEW YORK. ERRATUM. Page 70. Sentence beginning "He also tried to persuade them into the belief," &c., should read, "He also tried to persuade them into the belief that when _new_ violins sound well and are serviceable for concerts they are made of chemically prepared wood." Transcriber's Notes: Passages in italics are indicated by _italics_. Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original. The following obvious errors have been corrected: Page 8: the word "in" added after the word "remain" Page 18: the extra word "who" removed Page 77: "howevever" changed to "however" Page 88: "ingenius" changed to "ingenious" Page 89: "thories" changed to "theories" Page 98: "preposessed" changed to "prepossessed" "to fault" changed to "fault to" Punctuation has been corrected without note. The error notated on page 70 in the "Erratum" in the original has been corrected in this eText. 
37309	----	VIOLINS AND VIOLIN MAKERS. BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY OF THE GREAT ITALIAN ARTISTES, THEIR FOLLOWERS AND IMITATORS, TO THE PRESENT TIME. WITH ESSAYS ON IMPORTANT SUBJECTS CONNECTED WITH THE VIOLIN. BY JOSEPH PEARCE, JUN. LONDON: LONGMAN AND CO., PATERNOSTER ROW. SHEFFIELD: J. PEARCE, JUN. 1866. CONTENTS. PAGE. Preface 5 Introduction 8 Violin Makers, alphabetically arranged 15 Bow Makers 88 Cremona 93 Amati Family 93 Stradiuarius 107 On the Cremona Varnish 119 Guarnerius 121 Steiner 131 Why are certain Violins of more Value than others? 140 On the Production of Good Tone in Violins 148 Great Players and their Instruments 152 General Notes 154 Repairs of Instruments 162 Addenda 167 PREFACE. The Violin is an instrument which, though small and of trifling original cost, has yet commanded most extraordinary prices. The reason of the immense difference in the value of these instruments must therefore be a subject possessing strong claims to notice from virtuoso and amateur. To distinguish by the outward characteristics and peculiarities of tone, that which will be of pecuniary value to the possessor, and yield the utmost delight to the hearer, is an acquirement at once difficult to obtain and very valuable when obtained. To assist the amateur and collector in this pursuit is the object of the present little work. Such a work has long been a desideratum. Of late years, the History of the Violin and its congeners has received much attention. Elaborate and costly treatises have been published, some of which being written in Foreign tongues, are exceedingly difficult to obtain, and not accessible to many of those who desire to peruse them, on that account. Others are very imperfect and unsatisfying. Others again, are, from their high price, beyond the reach of the greater number of amateurs. The present work is intended chiefly for the use of those who desire a handy guide to the principal characteristics both of make and tone which mark the chief builders of this most famous instrument. Many persons anxious to possess a good instrument, and led away by the very natural desire to possess an Amati, a Guarnerius, or a Stradiuarius are tempted into purchasing Violins which are presented to them under false and delusive titles, and reject frequently good and genuine instruments of less famous makers, but still valuable because they are good and genuine. Undoubted specimens of the great masters are now very rarely to be had, unless at a very high price. Yet, when we consider that even Stradiuarius himself obtained no more than four pounds for his best instruments, which now command as many hundreds--it is evident that, in the absence of those great productions, the works of his pupils and successors are well worthy the attention of amateurs. There is no doubt, indeed, that many of these, which from being built on his principles are of first-rate quality, have been sold as those of the master himself. It cannot, therefore, be questioned that a knowledge which will lead the amateur to buy an instrument for what it really is, instead of what it professes to be, will at once save him from the unpleasantness of paying too dearly, and in real enjoyment yield all that can be desired. The author believes he has in this work given the amateur and connoisseur information not easily attainable elsewhere, but as he is fully conscious that there may be imperfections in it still, he will be glad to receive any suggestions or information which may enable him to render it still more complete. Sheffield, February, 1866. INTRODUCTION. The two most pleasing, expressive, and powerful single instruments of music are the human voice and the violin. The one, the gift of beneficent nature, has from the creation exercised its touching influence on the human soul--the other, the product of the ingenuity of man, has only within the last three centuries attained to perfection, but since that period what delight, what rapture has arisen from so simple a construction, when acted upon by the hand of genius! While the melodious tones of Grisi and Mario have touched with sympathetic feelings the hearts and imaginations of spell bound listeners, how have the magic tones of Paganini and Ernst wrapped the souls of wondering thousands in an elysium of delight and admiration! What effect cannot be produced by the Violin, (except that of speech,) which the voice can accomplish? The Violin in the hands of genius can draw tears or create laughter. Whoever has heard the great masters of this extraordinary instrument, has heard all the sweetness of tone, the intensity of feeling, the power of expression that the most gifted sons and daughters of song could possibly produce without the additional aid of speech. The Violin, in fact, in its power of expression far excels those singers, of whom there are too many, who while singing the notes, fail to make their hearers understand the sense of their songs. If a merry dance is produced by the agile bow, its sympathetic tones at once excite a corresponding feeling. If a plaintive air streams in delicious and heart-touching cadences from the strings, what soul is there so dead to feeling as not to respond? The perfection of the Violin is that its master, if alive to the subtle and mysterious influences of the imagination, can elicit from it the most perfect and touching "songs without words." It is besides the only instrument, except the voice, which is perfect. Every shade of expression, every nicety of tone can be produced on it. All other instruments sink into insignificance in comparison with the Violin, because they cannot do this. They are all more or less imperfect; and therefore fail in those subtleties of expression of which the Violin and the voice are such able exponents. What gratitude do we owe therefore to those great masters of Cremona, more especially the Amati and Stradiuarius, who have succeeded in bringing the Violin to its present state of perfection. Music has in all ages been a source of the purest delight. The greatest poet and dramatist the world ever knew says that whoever "has not music in his soul is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils." In the present age the cultivation of Music forms one of the most general and the most refined sources of amusement and pleasure. All ranks of people are now privileged to join in its delightful enjoyments. Even the cottage of the artisan is now often elevated by the elegant practice of music, through the increased facilities for producing instruments at a cheap rate. The consequence is that in the present age there is a more general study and a finer perception of what is good and beautiful, and their elevating tendencies are doing much for the mental cultivation and refinement of all classes. A very extraordinary feature of the musical world of the present day is the enormous orchestras which can be produced on special occasions. A chorus of several thousand voices supported by hundreds of instruments may now be heard, rendering the immortal compositions of the greatest masters of the divine Art, in the Peoples' Palace at Sydenham and elsewhere. These Orchestras are chiefly selected from the ranks of the people, of whom the artisan is the chief contributor. The reduction of the cost of instruments and the adoption of what may be called the joint stock principle are tending still further to enlarge the boundaries of the practical musical world. At any time and for any special purpose it is now easy to secure a band and chorus sufficient in numbers and executive power to render in an efficient and powerful manner, the glorious productions of Beethoven, Mozart, Handel, and other great masters. In all these transitions, the Violin bears a most important part. It is the leading instrument in these great performances, as it is also, after the voice, the most powerful medium of expression in solo. It is also the peoples' instrument. The labours of many eminent violin makers who have followed in the steps of the great masters have of late so immensely improved the art, that a good instrument may now be possessed by any one. And it may safely be said that with its improvement, has arisen also the extension and wide spread practice of music generally. An ear accustomed to the fine tone of a good violin will not now tolerate a bad piano-forte. The Piano-forte and the Violin are the most general instruments, and they have alike participated in the improvements effected, in becoming cheaper by the advance of science. Every description of machinery has within the last fifty years received the attention of able men, and the mechanical construction of the Piano-forte is one prominent proof of the advantages which can be conferred by science on even the luxuries of life. The Violin, also, seemingly the most incapable of mechanical application to its manufacture, is said to be now made by a most persevering and enthusiastic lover and follower of the great makers, by mechanical means. Copies of these celebrated makers, are now said to be manufactured by him with an uniformity, a certainty, and a precision impossible except by the aid of scientific improvements. These instruments are therefore understood to require only the ameliorating influences of time and use to become fine in tone and satisfactory in every respect. Every one interested in the progress of music, must rejoice at the rapid development of its resources and the general spread of its pleasures among the people. We are a profoundly commercial nation, and it is delightful to see that in our greater wealth and prosperity, rational amusements, and more especially music, go on increasing step by step with our more business-like occupations. This class of amusements must exercise a humanising and refining influence on the habits and manners of the people, and they should be, therefore, patronised and encouraged by all those whose means are large and their example powerful. There can be no doubt that their tendency is for good, and that those whose leisure hours are devoted to their practice and study, will be richly benefited by them in all those qualities which combine to make the good citizen and the estimable friend. * * * * * NOTE. To prevent too much space being taken up in the alphabetical portion of this work, separate chapters are given on the four renowned Violin Makers, Amati, Stradiuarius, Guarnerius and Steiner. The names and dates of each of the members of these celebrated families are however given in their proper places, for prompt reference. We have not in some cases been able to find any records beyond the names of certain makers. Wherever possible we have given dates, places, and style of work. DICTIONARY OF VIOLIN MAKERS. A. ACEVO, --- Cremona, Pupil of Guiseppe Cappa. This artiste made very good violins in the style of the Amati. ADDISON, WILLIAM, London, 1670. AIRETON, EDMUND, London, 1730. A good and neat Maker. ALDRED, --- London, Early English Lute Maker. ALETZIE, PAULO, Monaco, 1720-30. Famous for his Violoncellos. ALBANI, MATTHIAS, born at Botzen or Bulsani, in the Tyrol, about 1621. This artist was highly esteemed formerly, and Otto says that it is exceedingly difficult to give so exact a description of them as readily to distinguish them from those of Nicholas Amati, who was said to be his master. In the present day, opinions are very different. Nevertheless there are some fine instruments by this maker, of high model, with reddish brown varnish and bearing a great similarity to those of Steiner, of whom he was also said to be a pupil. The "Dictionary of Musicians" speaks highly of this maker. This was decidedly the best artiste of this name. ALBANI, PAOLO, Palermo and Cremona, was also under Nicholas Amati, about 1659. ALBANI, --- son of the above, about 1712, was also a careful maker, and turned out some good Instruments. AMATI FAMILY. For fuller particulars of these eminent makers, see separate Article. AMATI, ANDREAS, Cremona, born 1520, died 1580. AMATI, NICHOLAS, brother of the above, celebrated for his Basses. AMATI, NICHOLAS, son of Andreas. AMATI, ANTONIUS and HIERONYMUS. Sons of Andreas, 1550 to 1634, first made together and afterwards separately. AMATI, NICHOLAS, born 1596, died 1684, son of Hieronymus. This was the greatest maker of the family. AMATI, ANTONIO JEROME, do. 1640 to 1670. AMATI, HIERONYMUS, Son of Nicholas, born 1649, said to be the last of the Amati family. A violin of his is mentioned, dated 1672. AMELINGUE, --- Paris, 18th Century. ANSELMO, PIETRO, Venezia, 18th Century. ARTMANN, GOTHA. Followed Cremona pattern. ASSALONE, GASPARD, Rome, 18th Century. Cremona patterns. B. BACHMANN, LOUIS CHARLES, Berlin, born 1716, died 1800. Considered to be one of the best makers of Germany. Otto says, the Instruments by this Maker are next in point of quality to the Cremonese. Without going so far, with our present increased knowledge of the pupils of the Cremona makers, it may still be admitted that Bachmann was an excellent maker and was very careful in his proportions, so that Amateurs have been often deceived into thinking them genuine Cremonas. They are of the flat Stradiuarius Model, made of good wood, with amber varnish, and therefore present considerable similarity to their patterns. BAGANZI, --- see Bergonzi. BAGATELLA, PIETRO,--Padua, 1766. Said not to be very good. BAGATELLA, ANTONIO,--Padua, 1782. Author of a Work on the construction of Instruments, from which Bishop in his Translation of Otto, has appended a Theory for making a Violin on a very simple plan. He made some excellent Violins after Cremona patterns. BAINES, --- London, about 1780. BAKER, --- Oxford about 1720. BALESTRIERI, THOMAS, This excellent Maker was a pupil of Stradiuarius, and made after his model. The Author has seen an Instrument by this Artist, which is of the large flat pattern and has a magnificent and brilliant tone. The wood of the back and ribs rather plain--the belly very fine open grain, purfling not very neat--varnish reddish yellow. Pronounced by judges to be equal to a fine Stradiuarius. It is dated Thomas Balestrieri, Cremonensis, fecit Mantua, 1757. This instrument is a proof that amateurs may in future look with safety to the pupils of Stradiuarius for violins to take the place of those of the great masters, which are yearly becoming scarcer and dearer. BALESTRIERI, PIETRO, Cremona, rather earlier than Thomas. BANKS, BENJAMIN, Salisbury. Born 1727, died 1795. Foster in his excellent work calls him "one of England's best manufacturers. Too much cannot be said in praise of this justly celebrated Maker. The work of all the better class of instruments is excellent, the tone good of all; but that of the Violoncellos in particular is full and sonorous." Mr. Gardiner in his "Music and Friends," says "Banks of Salisbury's Violoncellos are of the finest quality of tone--not so strong and fiery as Foster's, but in sweetness and purity excelling them." They are chiefly of the Amati pattern.--The best Instruments have brownish yellow Varnish with a tinge of red, others deep red of a blackish tinge, Varnish not brilliant. BANKS, BENJAMIN, Son of the former, London, born 1754, died 1820. BANKS, JAMES and HENRY, Salisbury, other sons of the same. James is said to have been an excellent workman in his father's style, and dates about 1805. BARRETT, JOHN, London, about 1725. His labels state him to live at the Harp and Crown, in Picadilly. He made some good instruments, but did not purfle them. The author has seen a Violoncello by this maker which was everything that could be desired in the matter of tone. The wood and workmanship, however, were not equal to the tone, and this circumstance will probably partly account for the settled preference now given to the Italian instruments over all the old English makers. BARTON, GEORGE, London, died 1810. BEKMAN, SWENO, Stockholm, 1706. BELLOSIO, --- one of the Venetian makers, 18th Century. BENOIST, --- Paris, 18th Century. BENTE, MATTEO, Brescia, about 1580. Well known among virtuosi as a maker of merit in the style of Gaspar di Salo and Magini. BERGONZI, or BAGANZI, FRANCISCO, Cremona, 1687. BERGONZI, CARLO, Cremona, 1712 to 1750. Considered by authorities to be the best pupil of Stradiuarius. He made instruments of the same beautiful and brilliant tone which has rendered the productions of his master famous throughout the world. Constructed on similar principles, and generally of well-chosen wood, there is no doubt the productions of this excellent artiste will hereafter rank very high. Like Stradiuarius himself, Carlo Bergonzi is by some considered to have been at one time a pupil of Nicholas Amati. Every amateur would, if it were possible, get a Stradiuarius, an Amati, or a Guarnerius, but as the genuine violins of these makers are very rare and valuable, they should look for the veritable instruments of their pupils, which are now beginning to be highly esteemed on account of their intrinsic excellence. BERGONZI, NICHOLAS, Son of Carlo, but said to be inferior to his father. BERGONZI, MICHAEL ANGELO, Probably another son of Carlo. He, also, has the credit of being a pupil of Stradiuarius, though that seems rather doubtful, because the latter died in 1737, at which time, if a son of Carlo, he would not have been old enough. BERNADEL, --- Paris, 18th Century. BETTS, JOHN, called Old Betts, London, and BETTS, EDWARD, his nephew. These two well known makers were said to be pupils of Duke, but often employed other artistes, such as Carter, Panormo, B. Fendt, and his sons, whose work, chiefly imitations of the Cremona instruments, gained them great reputation both at home and abroad. 1782 to 1823. BINTERNAGLE, --- Gotha, 18th Century. This maker was a German imitator of the Cremona Violins, and is said to have been very successful. BOCQUAY, JAQUES, Paris, about 1620. A very good maker, and highly esteemed in France. BODIO, --- Venezia, 18th Century. BOLLES, --- An early English Lute and Viol Maker. Mace, 1675, says "one bass of Bolles, I have known valued at £100," equal to at least £600 of our present money. BORELLI, ANDREAS, Parma, 1740. BOULLAINGER, --- London. A careful maker, who first worked for others, and now on his own account. BREMEISTER, JAN., Amsterdam, 1707. BROSCHI, CARLO, Parma, 1744. BRETON, Le, Paris. BROWN, JAMES, born 1670, died 1834, and BROWN, JAMES, son of do., born 1786, died 1860. Both good workmen, but without any speciality. BUCHSTADTER, --- Ratisbon, 18th Century. Used the flat model. Otto says the wood is not good, and therefore, though well built, the tone is not fine; but Spohr puts his violins on his list as excellent instruments. He may, therefore, be ranked among the good German makers. BUDIANI, JAVIETTA, Brescia, about 1580. Made after the style of Gaspar di Salo. C. CAESTA, PIETRO ANTONIO DELLA, Trevisa, 18th Century, imitated Stradiuarius. CAMILE, CAMILUS de, Mantua, esteemed as a pupil of Stradiuarius. CAPPA, GIACHIMO or GIOFREDA or probably two Brothers, born at Cremona and worked under Amati. Date there about 1590 and were in Piedmont 1640. There are some good Violoncellos of this make. CAPPA, GUISEPPE--Saluzzo--end of 16th Century. CAPPER, --- or probably Cappa, Mantua. A Violin of this make was sold by auction in London in 1861, and said to be very good. CARTER, JOHN, London, 1789, made some excellent instruments which were sold both under his own name and under that of John Betts for whom he had worked. CARLO, GUISEPPE, Milan 1769. CASSINO, ANTONIO, Modena, 17th Century. CASTAGNERY, JEAN PAUL, Paris 1639 to 1662. This artist is considered to be one of the best of the old French Makers. One authority says they have a fine silvery tone but not powerful. CASTAGNERI, ANDREA, Paris. 18th Century. CHANOT, --- Mirecourt, France, a good maker, 18th Century. CHANOT, --- London. CHAPPUIS, (or Chappuy,) AUGUSTINE, about 1710. CHARLES, THERESS, London. CHEROTTE, --- Mirecourt, 18th Century. CHEVRIER, --- Paris, 18th Century. CHRISTA, JOSEPH PAUL, Munich, 1730. CHRISTOPHORI, BARTOLOMEO, Florence, 18th Century. CIRCAPA, THOMASO. Naples, 1730. CLARK, --- London. COLE, THOMAS, London. Forster says no instrument has been preserved of this maker, but that is a mistake. There is in the neighborhood of Sheffield, a very large Tenor with a fine deep tone and the following curious label. Made 1690, by THOMAS COLE of London, on Holborn Hill, who selleth all sorts of Musical Instruments. COLLINGWOOD, JOSEPH, London, 18th Century. CORSBY, GEORGE, believed to be formerly a maker at Northampton, and now and for a long time a dealer in Violins, &c., in Princes' Street, Soho, London. CONWAY, WILLIAM, 1745. COLLIER, SAMUEL, 1755. CRASK, GEORGE, of various places, has made many Violins in imitation of the Cremona Makers, some of which have been sold by unscrupulous dealers as genuine instruments, an example of which we have seen which was purchased by a professional man, since dead, of a Violinist then on a Musical Tour. It is only right here to say that we believe Mr. Crask to be entirely free from blame in this matter, as he sells these instruments as his own productions. CROWTHER, JOHN, 1755 to 1810. CROSS, NATHANIEL, London, about 1720. He was partner at one time with Barak Norman and used his monogram sometimes. He also stamped a Cross in the inside of his instruments as well as used it in his labels. He made some good Violins, which resemble those of Steiner. His mark in the inside of the back is here given. + N. C. A violin of this make which we have seen, has the great fault of having the bass bar cut out of the solid, instead of being glued in, thus contravening the established principles of the art. CONTRERAS, JOSEPH, Madrid, 1746. An excellent maker, who was particularly celebrated for his copies of Stradiuarius. D. DARDELLI, PIETRO, Mantua, about 1500. Made good rebecs, violas and viols da gamba. Fetis mentions some of them as still existing. DECOMBRE, AMBROISE, Tournay, 1700 to 1735, was said to be one of the pupils of Stradiuarius and made some good instruments of his pattern. DESPONS, ANTOINE, Paris,--one of the good French Makers, about 1725. DICKENSON, EDWARD, 1754. DICKSON, JOHN, Cambridge, 1779. DIEHL, NICHOLAUS, Darmstadt, 17th Century. DITTON, ---- London, about 1720. DODD, THOMAS, Son of Edward Dodd of Sheffield, and who died in London in 1810, at the great age of 105 years (see Bow Makers). Thomas Dodd's instruments have had considerable reputation, but it is believed he was not a maker himself, but employed Bernard Fendt and John Lott, through whose excellent workmanship his name, which he put on the labels, became well known. DODD, THOMAS. Son of the above; he was drowned in 1843. DOMINISCELLI--Ferrara, 18th Century. A good workman. DUKE, RICHARD, London, 1767 to 1777. This Artist was very celebrated in his day and his instruments commanded very good prices. He frequently stamped his name on the back, but as far as we have seen, only on inferior productions. Very good instruments may now occasionally be met with at low prices in consequence of the great prejudice in favour of the Italian and other foreign makers. DURFEL, ---- Altenburg, made good double Basses. His violins are also said by one authority to be excellent in point of tone. DUIFFOPRUGCAR, GASPARD, born in the Tyrol, established in Bologna in 1510, and went to Paris at the invitation of Francis 1st. He afterwards removed to Lyons. This appears to be the first maker of the genuine Violin we have on record, and some instruments still exist to attest the excellence to which he had reached. M. Vuillaume, possesses a Bass Viol, and other Parisian Collectors possess instruments by this ancient artiste. E. EBERLE, JEAN ULRIC, Prague, 1749. Otto says this is one of the most celebrated German Makers and his instruments have been frequently taken by experienced connoisseurs for Italian; the difference being that they "have a sharper or rather not so round and full a tone." Connoisseurs could not be very experienced at that time, if they could mistake for Cremonese, instruments possessing this characteristic, which is exactly what distinguishes the inferior instruments from the genuine. EBERTI, TOMMASO, about 1730. EDLINGER, THOMAS, Prague 1715. EDLINGER, JOSEPH JOACHIM, Prague, son of Thomas. Visited Italy, and afterwards built some excellent instruments; died in 1748. ERNST, FRANCOIS ANTOINE, born in Bohemia in 1745. This artiste made some excellent instruments which are said almost to reach the Cremonas in tone. He was also the Author of a Treatise on Instruments. The celebrated Violinist Spohr, author of "the Violin School," is said to have at one time used one of this maker's instruments. EVANS, RICHARD London, 1742. F. FARINATO, PAUL, Venezia, about 1700. FENDT, or FINTH, Paris, 1763-80. Made good instruments after the Stradiuarius model, some of which followed his style so carefully as to have been taken for those of that master. FENDT, BERNHARD, born 1775, died 1825. Nephew of the above. He worked first for Dodd and afterwards for old John Betts. He was a capital workman and made many fine imitations of the Cremonese instruments. FENDT, BERNARD SIMON, Son of the above, born 1800, died 1852, became partner with Purdy in the well known firm of Purdy and Fendt. FENDT, MARTIN, brother of the above, born 1812, died 1845. FENDT, JACOB, born 1815, died 1849. FENDT, FRANCIS. FENDT, WILLIAM, Son of Bernard Simon, born 1833, died 1852. All the Fendts have the reputation of being excellent workmen. FICHTOLD, HANS, 1612, is said to have made good instruments. FICKER, JOHANN CHRISTIAN, Cremona 1722. FICKER, JOHANN GOTLIEB, Cremona 1788. FLEURY, BENOIST, Paris, about 1720. FLORENTUS, FLORINUS, Bologna, 1690. Followed the Amati patterns, and has a good reputation in that style. FORSTER, WILLIAM. The first Violin maker of this now celebrated name, born 1713, died 1801. FORSTER, WILLIAM, born 1739, died 1808. This maker was very celebrated for his Violas and Violoncellos. He appears to have followed the Steiner pattern in 1762, and the Amati pattern in 1772. His common instruments were not purfled, second class purfled but still much inferior to the third class, "in which," says an authority, "everything was embodied to conduce to excellence and beautiful appearance and to the finest tone;" and again, "his instruments are second to none in merit and the best Europe has ever known, especially his amber coloured Violoncellos, which are renowned for mellowness, volume, and power of tone, equalled by few, surpassed by none." We need scarcely say that this opinion is rather strongly expressed, and may be considered partial. Without at all detracting from the real excellence of Wm. Forster's instruments, which is very great, we may confidently assert that the great Cremona Makers have had no rivals. Whether in power, purity, and sweetness of tone--or beauty of wood and workmanship--the best instruments of Nicholas Amati, Antonius Stradiuarius, and Joseph Guarnerius have never yet been equalled. Wm. Forster's Violoncellos have, however, (in England at any rate,) been held in high esteem both by players and amateurs, and have realised good prices. FORSTER, WILLIAM, the third of the name born 1764, died 1824, known as young Forster. His instruments are not so good as those of his father, but still excellent productions. FORSTER, WILLIAM, the fourth of the name, born 1788, died 1824. A good workman, but not equal to the second William Forster. FORSTER, SIMON ANDREW, son of the above, born 1801, author, in conjunction with William Sandys, F.S.A., of a most elaborate and excellent work from which these particulars are taken, entitled "History of the Violin and other Instruments played on with the Bow, from the remotest times to the present." He is also like the rest of the family, a maker and bears a good reputation. FORSTER.--Of this noted family Dubourg in his amusing and interesting book, "The Violin," speaks in complimentary terms. He says, "The Forsters, old and young, grandfather and grandson, have, in their department of art, a name that lives." FOURRIER, NICHOLAS, born at Mirecourt. Settled in Paris, died 1816; good maker, after the Cremona school. FRITZCHE, SAMUEL, Leipsic, 1787, pupil of Hunger, and made similar instruments. They are of the Italian model and have amber varnish. FRITZ, BERTHOLD, Leipsic, 1757. FRANKLAND, ---- London, 1785. FREY, HANS, Nuremberg, lute maker, 15th Century. FURBER, DAVID, about 1700. FURBER, MATTHEW, son of David, 1740. FURBER, JOHN, grandson of David, 1759. FURBER, MATTHEW, son of the above, died 1840. FURBER, JOHN, son of Matthew, 1840. G. GABRIELLE, GIOVANNI, BAPTISTA, Florence, 18th Century, considered to be a good Maker. GAGLIANO, or GALIANO, ALESSANDRO, Naples, about 1710, is generally reckoned as one of the pupils of Stradiuarius, but was more probably only one of his imitators. He made some good instruments of the Stradiuarius model, which possess a bright and sparkling tone; they are, however, generally characterised by less power of tone, Stradiuarius having in this particular the advantage over nearly all his imitators, some of his personal pupils being perhaps the only exceptions. NOTE.--M. Fetis commences the line of the Gaglianos with Nicolo, 1700, ten years earlier than Alessandro, whom he also calls Gennaro, and ranks him as a maker formed under one of the immediate pupils of Stradiuarius. GAGLIANO, JANUARIUS, Naples, 1740. Son of Alessandro. GAGLIANO, NICHOLAUS, Naples. Another son of Alessandro. GAGLIANO, FERDINANDO, Naples, made to 1790. GAGLIANO, GUISEPPE, Naples, 1790. GAGLIANO, GIOVANNI, Naples. GAGLIANO, ANTONIO, Naples. GAGLIANO, RAPHAEL, Naples, son of Giovanni. GAGLIANO, ANTONIO, Naples, son of Giovanni. GAGLIANO FAMILY. Most of the instruments made by the Gagliano family possess a good quality of tone, and Amateurs who have no necessity for that great power which Stradiuarius and Guarnerius conferred on their best productions, will do well to secure any genuine Gagliano which they may meet with, rather than risk the chance of getting less merit, under a more pretentious name. GALERZENA, ---- Piedmont, 1790. GAND, ---- Paris. A first-rate maker. He was son-in-law to Lupot. GARANA, MICHAEL ANGELO, Bologna. An excellent maker, about 1700, considered by Fetis to be a pupil of one of those celebrated makers formed in the Cremona schools. GATTANANI, ---- Piedmont, 1790. GAVINIES, ---- Paris, 18th Century. GEDLER, JOHANN ANTONY, Fissen, Bavaria, 18th Century. GEDLER, JOHANN BENEDICT, same place and same date. GERANS, PAUL, Cremona, about 1615. GERLE, JEAN, Nuremberg, about 1540. Made Lutes, Viols da Gamba, &c. GILKES, SAMUEL, London, 1787 to 1827. Pupil of the Second William Forster. An excellent maker. His work was most highly finished and his varnish of a rich quality. GILKES, WILLIAM, born 1811. Not equal as a maker to Samuel. GIORDANE, ALBERTO, Cremona, 1735. GOBETTI, FRANCISCO, Venezia, about 1700. A pupil of Stradiuarius, and an excellent artiste. GOFILLER, MATTEO, Venezia, about 1725. A good maker after Cremona patterns. GOFILLER, FRANCISCO, Venezia. Brother to Matteo, similar, same date. GRAGNARIUS, ANTONIO, early part of 18th Century. GRANCINO, GIOVANNI, Milan, middle of 17th Century. GRANCINO, PAOLO, do. do. GRANCINO, GIOVANNI BAPTISTA, Milan, son of first named. GRANCINO, GIOVANNI BAPTISTA, Milan, early in 18th Century. GRANCINO, FRANCISCO, son of Giovanni Baptista. This artiste made to about 1760, or rather later. GRANCINO FAMILY. These makers produced some very good but not handsome instruments. Lindley is said to have had a Violoncello by one of the Grancinos, the tone of which was very fine and powerful, with light yellow varnish darkened by age; the wood of back and sides very plain, but the belly very fine. GROBITZ, ---- Warsaw, about 1750. Made some good instruments of the Steiner model. GUERSAN, ---- Paris. An excellent maker, small model, careful finish, and fine tone; about 1730. GUGEMMOS, ---- Fissen, Bavaria. GUIDANTUS, GIOVANNI FLORENUS, Bologna, about 1750. An excellent maker. GULETTO, NICHOLAS, Cremona, about 1790. GUADAGNINI, LORENZO, Cremona, 1690 to 1720. Pupil of Stradiuarius and highly esteemed as a maker. Followed the style of his celebrated teacher. Guadagnini is one of the makers especially recommended by Spohr when one of the three great masters cannot be procured. A good specimen of his work will always command a good price. GUADAGNINI, LORENZO, Placentia and Milan, 1742. Made instruments generally of the smaller model. Was a careful workman and finished his instruments well, and used good varnish. GUADAGNINI, BAPTISTA. Same places and about same dates, and made similar instruments. GUADAGNINI, GUISEPPE, Turin, 1751. GUADAGNINI, GUISEPPE, Parma, 1793. GUARNERIUS FAMILY. A more extended account of these great masters will be found in a separate chapter. GUARNERIUS, ANDREAS, Cremona, horn 1630, dates to 1680. Pupil of Hieronymus Amati. GUARNERIUS, GUISEPPE, son of Andreas, Cremona, dates from 1690 to 1730. GUARNERIUS, PIETRO, another son of Andreas. Removed in the latter part of his life from Cremona to Mantua. GUARNERIUS, JOSEPH, nephew of Andreas. Known as Joseph to distinguish him from his cousin of the same name, but who is generally known as Guiseppe. Joseph was the great maker of the family, born 1683, died 1745, at Cremona. H. HARBOUR, ---- London, 1785. HARDIE, MATTHEW, Edinburgh, about 1820. Made some good instruments which occasionally possessed great power, but not always very neat finish. HARDIE, THOMAS. Son of Matthew, Edinburgh, was also a good workman--died in 1856, from accidentally falling down stairs. HARE, JOSEPH, London, 1720, is said to have been the first in England to introduce the flat model, all the makers before him and for some time after, following the elevated model of Steiner. He also introduced a varnish of greater transparency than was generally used at that time in England. HARRIS, CHARLES, London, about 1815. HARRIS, CHARLES. Son of the above. HART, JOHN, of Princes Street, Leicester Square, London, pupil of Samuel Gilkes, is a maker; and restorer of instruments, in which latter capacity we have pleasure in stating him to be worthy of the extensive reputation he has acquired. He is also a great connoisseur in old instruments, and has the honour of having formed most of the fine collections in this country. The largest price ever given for a Violin was for one imported by him and which from its beauty, model, varnish and perfection of condition is known by the name of the King Joseph Guarnerius. This instrument is considered quite unique and was sold for 700 guineas. The celebrated collection of Charles Plowden, Esq., which embraces four fine instruments of Stradiuarius and four of Joseph Guarnerius, and which is acknowledged to be the finest collection in the world, was also formed by Mr. Hart. Mr. Plowden's taste being highly cultivated, he rejects any instrument which is not of the very highest order, and therefore it reflects great credit on Mr. Hart's judgment to have succeeded in placing so many fine instruments in the collection of so critical a connoisseur. We shall have occasion to mention other celebrated instruments in the Chapters on the Great Masters of the Art. HASSERT, ---- Rudolstadt, 18th Century. Made instruments of a high model, which though he used good wood and finished them carefully, did not possess very good tone. Very few makers have succeeded in imparting superior tone to high built instruments. HASSERT, ----, Eisenach, 18th Century, brother of the above--adopted a different system, and followed the flatter model of the Cremona School with considerable success. His instruments are remarkable for beautiful wood, and Otto speaks very highly of them, saying that many of them can only be distinguished from the genuine Italians by experienced judges. In the present day we think Otto was partial to his own countrymen's work, and that there are very few German instruments which can be taken for Italian by judges. HEESOM, EDWARD, London, 1750. HELMER, CHARLES, Prague, 1740. This artiste was a pupil of Eberle, and is considered a careful workman, but used too light a bass bar, which, unless a stronger one be substituted, depreciates the character of his instruments. HILDEBRANT, MICHAEL CHRISTOPHER, Hamburg, 1765. Esteemed as a good maker. HILL, WILLIAM, London, 1740. Made some good instruments, but they are said to be deficient in quality in consequence of being built on a wrong principle, the centres having too little wood. HILL, JOSEPH, London, 1770, brother of the above. Reckoned a superior maker to his brother, and produced some very excellent Violoncellos which obtained him a good reputation, and caused him to be classed high among English makers, but like the others, he is now depreciated in value below his real merits. HIRCUTT, ---- English maker, about 1600. HOFFMAN, MARTIN, Leipsic, is said to be chiefly known as a skilful lute maker. His Tenors are considered good, and Otto says his violins have an excellent quality of tone when unspoiled, but are not esteemed on account of their ungraceful appearance. HOLLOWAY, J., London, 1794. HORIL, ---- (Italian) about 1720. HULLER, AUGUSTINE, Shoeneck, 1775. HUME, RICHARD, Edinburgh. An early English lute maker; about 1530. HUNGER, CHRISTOPHER FREDERICK, Leipsic, 1787. A good maker who followed the Italian style, used good wood and amber varnish. This maker is classed among the superior German artistes, and his instruments are said to be beautiful. J. JACOBS, ---- Amsterdam, 18th Century. This maker imitated the Amatis and produced some good instruments after their Models which also partook of their sweet tone but had little power. One authority we have consulted calls this maker a pupil of Amati, and states that he used whalebone purfling. JAYE, HENRY, London, 1615. Of this maker we have not been able to find any account unless it be to him that Mace (1676,) refers when he says, speaking of the makers of Viols, "Of such there are no better in the world, than those of Aldred, Jay, Smith" &c. He was certainly an excellent maker judging from an instrument we have seen which has been converted into a small Violoncello with four strings. It is handsomely finished, with ornamental purfling and good varnish and a well carved head. As a small violoncello the tone is also very good. Dated "in Southwarke," 1615. JAY, THOMAS, London, about 1700. JAY, HENRY, London, 1750. It appears that this artiste was best known as a maker of Kits, which were very well made and for which he obtained the extraordinary price in those days of five pounds each. When we remember that four pounds was the price that Stradiuarius got for his best violins in his life time, and from an anecdote told by Mr. Forster, that Cervetto could not even get that price for some he got direct from the maker, we see one of those extraordinary freaks of fashion for which, to use the expression of my Lord Dundreary, no fellow can account. JAUCH, ---- Dresden, about 1765, is said to have made good instruments on Cremona models, and is generally placed among the good German makers. JOHNSON, JOHN, London, 1753. JULIANO, FRANCISCO, Rome, 1700. K. KAMBL, JOHANN, CORNELIUS, 1635. KENNEDY, ALEXANDER, London, died 1785, and considered to be about 90 years of age. This artiste obtained considerable reputation for good and neat work. He followed the Steiner model, and used yellow varnish. It is not known that he made any other instruments than violins. KENNEDY, JOHN, London, died in 1816, and considered to be 86 years of age. Made violins and tenors of the Steiner model. KENNEDY, THOMAS, son of John, London, bears the reputation of a good and neat artiste, and is said to have made at least 300 violoncellos and other instruments in proportion. KEKLIN, JOAN, Brescia, about 1450. This artiste is believed by some inquirers to be the earliest maker of the violin proper, but Fetis says that the only instrument of his that is known, and which was in the possession of Koliker of Paris, and dated 1449, was not really a violin, but a viol with changed neck and mounted with four strings. It would appear, therefore, that the merit of the actual introduction of the real violin belongs properly to Gaspar di Salo. KIAPOSSE, SAWES, Petersburg, 1748. KLOTZ, MATTHIAS, Tyrolese, about 1675, considered by Fetis to have been a pupil of Steiner, and the first violin maker of this well known name. He made some instruments, which established his reputation as a careful artiste. KLOTZ, EGITIA. This maker, who appears to have been a son of Matthias, is often considered to be the best maker of this Family. He is commonly called the pupil of Steiner, but that must be doubtful. More probably he followed the Steiner traditions as exemplified by his father. He used amber varnish, good wood, and his instruments are well made and have his own name upon them. KLOTZ, GEORGE, brother of Egitia. KLOTZ, SEBASTIAN, another brother. We believe this artiste to be the best maker of the Klotz family. He built large sized violins, which possess a fine tone and have excellent varnish. KLOTZ, MICHAEL,--1771. KLOTZ, JOSEPH, son of Egitia, Mittenwald an der Iser, 1774. Otto says this artiste built after his father's system--but was better acquainted with the qualities of wood, and his instruments are therefore superior in tone, but are badly varnished in their original state. THE KLOTZ FAMILY. Spohr enumerates Klotz among the makers whose instruments are worthy of attention, but does not indicate which of them in particular. We have before expressed our opinion that Sebastian ranks highest in merit, which is corroborated by the most experienced connoisseur of the present day. Some violins of this name have achieved a high reputation. Parkes, in his "Musical Memoirs," mentions a Klotz Violin belonging to Mr. Hay, the Leader of the King's Band, for which a Noble Lord offered £300 and an annuity of £100. This seems a most extraordinary offer, for any instrument, unless it were a very fine Stradiuarius or Guarnerius. KOHL, JEAN, Munich, Luthier to the Court, about 1570. Fetis states that from some old accounts he finds he was paid two florins for a lute, a strange discrepancy in value from the statement of Mace a century later.--(See Bolles.) KOLDITZ, MATTHIAS JOHANN, Munich, 1722. KOLDITZ, JAQUES, Rumbourg, in Bohemia, 1790; said to be very good. KOLIKER, ---- Paris, a noted maker and collector, about 1750. KNITTING, PHILIP, Mittenwald, 1760. KNITL, JOSEPH, Mittenwald, 1790. KRINER, JOSEPH, Mittenwald, 1785. L. LACASSO, ANTONIO MARIA, Milan, probably the same as Lausa. LAGETTO, Paris, about 1650. Followed the Amati patterns. LAMBERT, JOHANN HENRY, Berlin, 1760. LAMBERT, ---- Nancy, 1760. A prolific but not very careful maker, which gained him the name of the Lute Carpenter. LANDOLPHI, CARLO, Florence, 1750. An excellent maker, who followed the Cremona patterns with considerable success. LANDOLPHI, FERDINAND, Milan, about same date. There appears to be some doubt whether there was more than one Landolphi, his name being Carlo Ferdinand, but being mentioned as of both Florence and Milan, and the Christian names given separately, there may have been two. Fetis only mentions Carlo, and locates him at Milan. LAUSA, ANTONIO MARIA, 1675. A capital imitator of Magini and Gaspar di Salo's instruments, but is said not to have succeeded in rivalling them in tone. LAUTTEN, L. W. No particulars of this maker; but we find a violin by him in a Catalogue, described as "fine and handsome." LECLERC, ---- Paris, 18th Century. LENTZ, JOHANN NICHOLAUS, London, about 1800. Considered a good workman. LEWIS, EDWARD. London, about 1700. An excellent maker, used good wood, fine varnish, chiefly of a yellow colour, and was notable for his excellent finish. LINELLI, or LINAROLLA, ---- Venezia, about 1520. A maker of rebecs, viols, and viols da gamba. LOTT, JOHN FREDERICK, London, born 1775, died 1853. An excellent workman, who made many instruments for Thomas Dodd. He is also very generally known as a first-rate double bass maker. LOTT, GEORGE FREDERICK, son of the above, was also an excellent workman, and is said to have been chiefly employed by dealers. LOTZ, THEODORE, Prestburg, about 1735, has a good reputation as a maker of violins. LUPOT, FRANCOIS, Stuttgard, about 1770. LUPOT, NICHOLAS, son of Francois, born at Stuttgard, 1758; went to Orleans, 1786, and Paris, 1794; died 1824. This artiste deserves the title of the King of the French makers. He followed the model of Stradiuarius, used excellent wood and good varnish, much in the style of that master. His violins are very fine in tone and resemble the Italian more than any other maker's. Tolbecque, the violinist has two very fine specimens. His instruments have been frequently selected by the French Conservatoire as prizes for their pupils. They now fetch high prices. Dubourg calls him "a studious artist, whose instruments are in request when a good Cremona is unattainable." He also says, "sixty guineas have been refused for one of his best violins." Spohr in his "Violin School," also recommends his instruments. This artiste published a work on the construction of violins, called "La Chelonomie, on le parfait Luthier." M. MAGGINI, GIOVANNI PAOLO, Brescia, 1590 to 1640. This celebrated artiste was a pupil of Gaspar di Salo. His instruments are highly esteemed, and are both rare and valuable. They are generally of a large pattern, with elevated model, reaching almost to the edges; narrow ribs, double purfling, frequently ending on the top and bottom of the back with an ornament in the shape of a leaf--and fine yellowish brown or golden coloured varnish, of good quality. Some few are said to have deep brown varnish. They possess a tone of a peculiar character--deep, solemn, and somewhat plaintive. Dubourg describes it as "less soft than that of a Stradiuarius, and less potent than a Guarnerius, approaching that of a viol, and has in it a touch of melancholy." From their size these instruments had not been in great favour with violinists until the celebrated DeBeriot introduced one, which from its splendid tone brought them at once into esteem, and for which he has been offered almost fabulous sums. MAGGINI, PIETRO SANTO, Brescia, son of Giovanni Paolo, 1630 to 1680. Followed the same style as his father, but was more particularly famous for his double basses, which the Italians consider to be the best ever made, after those of Gaspar di Salo. MAIER, ANDREA FERDINAND, Salzburg, 1746. Little is known of this maker except that he made the small instrument on which the immortal Mozart first learned to play the violin, which event, could he have foreseen, would no doubt have compensated him for the want of more general fame. MALDONNER, ---- Bavaria, about 1760. MALLER, LAUX, Venice. This artiste was an early and highly esteemed maker of lutes. Mace in his curious and very interesting book, "Music's Monument," mentions him as one of the best authors, _i.e._ makers. He also says he has "seen two of his lutes ('pittiful, battered, cracked Things,') valued at £100 apiece." Mace's book was published in 1676. Think of £100 for a lute two hundred years ago, when the value of money was at least six times less than it is now! This would make the comparative value of a "battered" old lute about £600, a sum (with the exception of the King Joseph Guarnerius, mentioned elsewhere) exceeding the highest price we have heard of in modern times. Even the most splendid and perfect violins of Stradiuarius have never realised as much as this "pittiful battered lute!" In the face of this fact (as we suppose it is) we cannot be surprised that enthusiastic amateurs should in the present day give such large prices for the splendid productions of the great Cremona Makers. MARIANI, ANTONIO, Pesaro, 1570 to 1620. An imitator of Gaspar di Salo. MARATTI, ---- Verona, 1690. Made good toned violins, but the workmanship has little character. MARQUIS DE LAIR, ---- A French maker about 1800. MARSHALL, JOHN, London, 1760. MARTIN, ---- London, 1790. MAUCOTEL, CHARLES, London. An excellent workman, who has produced some beautiful instruments. MAUSIELL, LEONARD, Nuremburg, 1725. A capital imitator of Steiner, whose style he followed so closely as to render it (as it is stated) difficult to distinguish the one from the other. This is one of the makers praised by Spohr in his "Violin School," as worthy attention when a good Cremona cannot be got. MAYRHOF, ANDREA FERDINAND, Salzburg, 1740. MEDARD, HENRY, Paris and Nancy. A French maker, who is generally considered to have been a pupil of Nicholas Amati, and was esteemed nearly equal to his master; but Fetis includes him in his list of the personal pupils of Antonius Stradiuarius. MERLIN, JOSEPH, London, about 1780. A very ingenious person, who obtained the honour of being mentioned in Madame D'Arblay's "Diary and Letters." His violins were after the Steiner pattern, and well made, but did not approach the Steiner tone. MEUSIDLER, JEAN, Nuremberg, about 1540. A maker of viols, viols da gamba, &c. MEZZADIE, ALEXANDER, Ferrara, about 1700. A good maker who followed the Amati style, and is reckoned by Fetis as one of that school. MIER, ---- London, 1786. MILANI, FRANCISCO, Milan, is supposed to be a pupil of Guadagnini and followed his style,--about 1760. MILLER, ---- London, about 1750. MOHR, PHILIP, Hamburg, 1650. MONTADE, GREGORIO, Cremona, 1735. Considered to be a pupil of Stradiuarius, but more probably an imitator. MONTAGNANA, DOMINICO, Venezia, 1725. This excellent artiste made instruments generally of a large size, and used wood of a large and beautiful figure. The varnish exceedingly brilliant and of a rich yellow or yellow red colour, and the tone everything that can be desired. Mr. Perkins had a violoncello of this make, which was originally sold as a Joseph Guarnerius, and was said in the catalogue to be uncommonly fine and handsome. This is another of those careful artistes, whose productions are now in high esteem when one of the three great masters cannot be obtained, and which will very probably hereafter rank with them and become very famous. MORRISON, JOHN, London, 1780 to 1819. MORELLA, MORGLATO, Mantua, about 1550. Famous for rebecs, viols, and viols da gamba. N. NAMY, ---- Paris, about 1800. NAYLOR, ISAAC, Leeds, 1788. NEWTON, ISAAC, 1780. NICHOLAS, ---- Geneva, 1790. NIGGEL, SYMPERTUS, Paris, about 1650. NORMAN, BARAK, London, 1690 to 1740. He generally used a monogram formed of the letters NB. interlaced. This artiste has long been a favourite, and he certainly made some good instruments, which in the present day are depreciated below their real worth, as is the case also with other English makers, whose productions have had to give way before the prevailing preference for Italian instruments. He was partner at one time with Nathaniel Cross, and the instruments then made bear their joint names on the labels. NORRIS AND BARNES, pupils of Thomas Smith, 1785 to 1818. NOVELLO, VALENTINO, Venezia, about the middle of 18th Century. NOVELLO, MARCO ANTONIO, Venezia, same date. Both these makers are in good esteem. O. OBUE, BARTOLOMEO, Verona. ODOARDI, GUISEPPE, early 18th Century. OTT, JEAN, Nuremberg. Lute maker, 15th Century. OTTO, JACOB AUGUSTUS, born at Gotha, 1762, died 1830. Author of the celebrated Book on the Construction of the Violin. He made some good instruments which, in his book he says he "proved" by a machine which played them in thirds, fourths, and fifths for a continued period, thus mellowing and perfecting the tone. We do not believe in this doctrine. From all past experience, there can be no doubt that whatever pains or trouble a maker may take to bring his instruments, while new, to bear the character of old, his labour is quite useless. There is no instance of an instrument becoming famous for its fine tone till it had attained a good old age. Some modern makers use chemical means to mature their violins; but this process is utterly destructive to them, as they become quite rotten through the action of the acid after a lapse of years. Time alone can ripen and mellow all musical instruments made of wood, the violin and the organ especially. P. PANORMO, VINCENZIO, born near Palermo, 1734. He appears to have left his native place, and after a temporary sojourn in several towns came to England about 1772, and died in 1813. He was an excellent artiste. His instruments are carefully constructed on Cremona models, and possess a fine tone. He made a few violoncellos which are highly prized, their tone being extremely rich and powerful. They are of the Stradiuarius pattern, mostly of handsome maple for the back and ribs. All his instruments are of a good Italian quality of tone, and are among those which are rising in value as the great masters become rarer and dearer. PANORMO, JOSEPH, son of Vincenzio, also a good workman. PANORMO, GEORGE LEWIS, another son of Vincenzio, a celebrated bow maker. PANORMO, Edward. PANORMO, GEORGE, probably grandson of Vincenzio. PAMPHILON, EDWARD, London, 1685. A very clever artiste. Made violins of rather small model, somewhat high built, rich yellow varnish, and sometimes double purfled. The Editor has known one of his instruments, which was in the hands of a rich amateur, in whose house he has heard it played and very much approved. PANSANI, ANTONIO, Rome, 1785. PARKER, DANIEL, London, 1714, is considered one of the good old English makers. His instruments have a clear and powerful tone. A first-rate authority calls him an excellent workman; another says though he was otherwise good he used a bad brick red varnish. PASTA, GAETANO, Brescia, early in 18th Century. PASTA, DOMINICO, Brescia, same date. Said to have followed the Amati patterns, and deserted the Brescian standard of Gaspar di Salo and Maggini. PEARCE, JAMES and THOMAS, London, 1780. PEMBERTON, J., London, 1580. An English maker of considerable talent. Is supposed to have been the maker of the instrument presented by Queen Elizabeth to the Earl of Leicester. PFRETZSCHNER, GOTTLOB, Cremona, 1749. PFRETZSCHNER, CARL FREDERICK, Cremona. PICHOL, ---- Paris. PIQUE, ---- Paris. An excellent maker, and the master of Lupot. Spohr recommends Pique's instruments, and Dubourg says they were given as prizes by the French Conservatoire in the beginning of the present Century. PIERRAY, or PIERRET, CLAUDE, Paris. A charming workman. His violins have been frequently mistaken for Italian by inexperienced judges. They are of a deep red colour and finely finished, with an excellent quality of tone. PIETE, NOEL, Paris, about 1785, pupil of Saunier. An artiste well spoken of. PLACK, FRANCIS, Schoenback, 1738. Considered a good maker. POLLUSHA, ANTONIO, Rome, 1751. PONS, ---- Grenoble, France, 1787. Made large pattern violins with high model, which have no great value. POSSEN, LAUXMIN, Bavaria, about 1540. Made rebecs, viols, and viols da gamba. POWELL, ROYAL and THOMAS, London, 1785. PRESTON, JOHN, York, 1789. R. RACCERIS, ---- Mantua, 1670, believed to have been a partner with one of the Gaglianos, and made similar instruments. RAF, ---- Bavaria. RAMBEAUX, ---- Paris, a pupil of Gand, and an excellent workman. RAPHAEL, NELLA, Brescia, 18th Century. This artiste was of the school of Maggini, and his instruments are said to have the scrolls sculptured, and to have inscriptions on the sides. RAUCH, JAQUES, Mannheim, 1730 to 1740. Considered to be a very good maker. RAUCH, SEBASTIAN, 1742 to 1763. RAUCH, ---- Breslau. RAUCH, ---- Wurtzburg. Otto praises the instruments of the two brothers of Breslau and Wurtzburg. He says they are excellent violins but have a shape and model peculiar to themselves and entirely different to the Italian or Steiners, but possess when uninjured a full, round and powerful tone. If Otto had told us what instruments were like instead of what they were not like, his book would have been more valuable. RAUT, JEAN, Bretagne. He was at Rennes till 1790. Made good instruments after the Guarnerius school. RAYMAN, JACOB, London, 1641. The instruments of this maker were very highly valued formerly. He is considered one of our best old English artistes. REICHEL, JOHANN GOTTFRIED, Absom. An imitator of Steiner. REICHEL, JOHANN CONRAD, Neukirch, 1779. REISS, ---- Bamburg. A capital imitator of Steiner, and made excellent instruments. REMY, ---- Paris. RENISTO, ---- Cremona, 1740, pupil of Carlo Bergonzi. His instruments are very similar to those of his master, but rather higher modelled, and the workmanship somewhat rougher. RETANTINO, ---- No particulars of this maker. RIMBOUTS, PETER, Amsterdam. ROOK, JOSEPH, London, 1777 to 1852. A good workman, who imitated Forster. ROSS, JOHN, 1562. An early maker of lutes. ROTH, CHRISTIAN, Augsburg, 1675. ROVELIN, ---- 18th Century. RUDGER, ---- Cremona--not one of the Ruggeri Family. Made some good instruments of the high build, and deep sides, and used fine varnish. RUGGERI, FRANCISCO, Cremona, 1640 to 1684. This celebrated maker is considered to have been a pupil of Antonius Amati, and made many excellent instruments which bear a high reputation. They rank next to the Amati. Their quality is similar, and the style of work is easily seen to belong to the same class. There are a few violins by this maker of the same pattern as the Grand Amatis, which are said to surpass the latter, having more wood in them, which was detrimental when they were made, but which age has mellowed, and they now possess a strong and free vibration. Many of the Ruggeris have varnish little inferior to that of Stradiuarius and Guarnerius. This artiste ranks highest in the family in the estimation of the connoisseur. His work is extremely clean. The next is Giovanni Baptista, rather higher built and sound holes rather broader. The scrolls are larger than those of Amati but of the same type, There are many splendid violoncellos of these makers and a few tenors. Some of the former are very large. Francisco Ruggeri is mentioned by Spohr in his list of instruments to be sought for in the absence of the three great makers, Nicholas Amati, Antonio Stradiuarius and Joseph Guarnerius. RUGGERI, GUIDO, Cremona, 1679. RUGGERI, GIOVANNI BAPTISTA, son of Francisco. Brescia, 1690. Mentioned above. RUGGERI, PIETRO GIACOMO. Brescia 1700 to 1720. The celebrated violoncellist Piatti plays on an instrument by this maker, and the tone is uncommonly fine and sonorous as all who have heard him know. RUGGERI, VINCENZIO, Cremona, 1700 to 1730. RUPPERT, FRANCIS, Erfruth, made some excellent instruments of a very flat model, but generally omitted the linings and corner blocks as well us the purfling. They are nevertheless esteemed in Germany. They have a dark brown amber varnish. S. SAINT, PAUL. Paris, about 1650. An excellent French maker. SALO, GASPAR DI, Brescia, dates from 1560 to 1610. This celebrated artiste was the contemporary of the ancient Amatis, and is thought by some connoisseurs to have been the master of Andrew. However that may be, as there can be no certainty of the fact, the varnish on which the great Cremonese makers established that notable reputation which distinguishes them to the present day, bears a strong analogy to that of Gaspar di Salo, however they may have derived it. In this respect, also, Gaspar excels Maggini, his pupil and follower, who was evidently not initiated into the secret of making that excellent varnish which characterises his master. The pattern of the instruments which the two early and famous chiefs of the Cremonese and Brescian Schools built, is however totally different. Those of Gaspar are large, massive, double purfled, and with large sound holes. Andrew is noted for a small pattern, and if he studied in the Brescian workshop, he discarded the style he found there (varnish excepted) and aimed at altogether a different object in his own productions. Those of Gaspar di Salo are constructed with capacity and strength to produce a considerable volume of tone. The Cremonese Artiste on the other hand, made instruments which, both in their proportions and adjustment, were especially adapted for the production of a sweet but not powerful tone. Gaspar's instruments seem to foreshadow in their tone and power, those of Stradiuarius and Joseph Guarnerius, while the Amatis seem generally to have been contented with producing a tone of surpassing sweetness. Gaspar also succeeded in giving to his productions that fine tone which seems to have been especially aimed at by the early makers, but as he also from the size and strength of his instruments, produced more tone, he may be considered far the superior of Andrew, the first of the Amatis. It is on this account that in the present day, Gaspar di Salo is esteemed as the greatest maker of his time, and connoisseurs value his instruments accordingly. There are not many violins by this great master, but of tenors and double basses more. These are very fine and rich in tone. He was not however famous for giving so very high a finish to his works as was afterwards attained at Cremona. His violins are described as rather long, and with a gentle elevation from the sides to the centre. The sound holes straight and large, well cut and parallel, and double purfling. The varnish is generally of a rich brown. These are the chief external characteristics, but they have always possessed that "which passeth show," and commanded the esteem of the dilettanti in that rich quality of tone which is the first essential in a perfect instrument. Signor Dragonetti, the greatest double bass player of our day, used one of Gaspar's instruments, which was presented to him on account of their admiration of his wonderful talent, by the order of the Convent of St. Mark at Venice. Shortly before his death the Duke of Leinster offered him £700 for it, a princely sum, but it was refused, as Dragonetti did not feel justified in parting with it, and he ordered in his will that it should be returned to the convent at Venice, which was accordingly done. Ole Bull has a very celebrated violin of Gaspar's make. In the first place, it was sculptured with Caryatides, by the great Florentine artist, Benvenuto Cellini, at the special command of another eminent person, Cardinal Aldobrandini, who presented it to the museum of Inspruck in the Tyrol. In 1809 that city was assaulted by the French, the museum was plundered, and this violin carried to Vienna, where it became the property of another notable person, the Councillor Rehazek, who was famous for his collection of ancient musical instruments. He left it by will to another still more celebrated person, Ole Bull, the distinguished Norwegian violinist, by whom it was exhibited in London in 1862, and with whom it still remains. To our description of Gaspar's instruments we should add that his tenors and double basses are of a rather broader form than his violins. SALLE, ---- Paris, 1800. This artiste was an excellent workman, and famous also as a judge of old instruments. SANONI, GIOVANNI BAPTISTA, Verona. SANTI, GIOVANNI, Naples, 1730. SANCTUS SERAPHINO, Venezia, about 1730. An excellent workman, whose instruments possess almost the beautiful finish of Stradiuarius. He used handsome wood of small figure, and his varnish is often beautiful in the extreme. The model however approaches that of the Steiner school, and the tone is therefore generally wanting in fullness and roundness. He made also a few violoncellos with similar characteristics. SAPINO, ---- Cremona. Pupil of Guiseppe Cappa, made instruments after the style of the Amati. SANZO SANTINO, ---- Milan. SAUNIER, ---- born in Lorraine 1740. An excellent artiste whose instruments are reckoned among the best of the French school. SCHEINLEIN, MATTHIAS FREDERICK, Langenfeld, born 1710, died 1771. SCHEINLEIN, JEAN MICHAEL, Langenfeld, born 1751. Made instruments which are said to be good but not strongly built. SCHMIDT, ---- Cassel, mentioned by Otto as living in 1817, and praised by him as an excellent maker. His instruments are of the flat model of Stradiuarius but have the edges larger and the purfling further from the sides. SCHONGER, FRANCIS, Erfurth, made high modelled instruments, but of poor tone. SCHONGER, GEORGE, Erfurth, son of the above, modelled his instruments in the Italian style and produced some very superior examples. SCHORN, JACOB, Salzbourg. SCHORN, JOHANN, Inspruck, 1688. SCHOTT, MARTIN, Prague. SHAW, ---- London, 1656. SIMPSON, JOHN, London, 1790. SIMPSON, J. and J., son of the above. SIMON, ---- Salzbourg, 1722. SIMON, ---- Paris. SMITH, HENRY, London, 1629. This may be a celebrated maker of viols, &c., mentioned by Mace, 1676, as one of the best then known. SMITH, THOMAS, London, 1756 to 1799. This well known maker was a pupil of Peter Wamsley. His violoncellos are of the Steiner model, and some of them possess considerable power, and were formerly highly esteemed, but they are now considered to be deficient in quality and wanting in the rich fine tone of the Italian artistes. Notwithstanding, they are still favourites in the country; the editor knows two of his violoncellos which have been respectively sold for £30 and £40 within a few years. SMITH, WILLIAM, London, 1771. SOLOMON, ---- pupil of Bocquay, a good French artiste. SPEILER, ---- 18th Century. STADELMANS, DANIEL, 1744, Vienna. STADELMANS, JOHANN JOSEPH, Vienna, 1784. Fame speaks very highly of this maker, who closely imitated Jacob Steiner and ranks next to him among the German makers. STEINER, JACOB, of Absom in the Tyrol, born about 1620, date of death not known, but at about the age of seventy retired to a Convent. See separate chapter on this celebrated artiste. STOSS, FRANCIS, Bavaria. STORIONI, LORENZO, Cremona, living in 1782, said to be the last of the great Cremona makers. Forster says his instruments resemble those of Joseph Guarnerius, and that Vieuxtemps' solo violin in 1861, was by this master, and was very much admired. His violoncellos are very powerful. The author knows a violin which an authority says is by Storioni, but which the owner considered to be by Antonius and Hieronymus Amati. The same authority says there are only two in England of this make. It possesses a splendid fine full and rich tone, beautiful wood for the belly, but the back rather plain, varnish deep yellow with reddish tinge. Workmanship not very fine. We mention those little known artistes' instruments when we have seen them, because they are now rising in value and are esteemed as likely to afford good instruments to those who cannot afford those of the three great masters. STRADIUARIUS, ANTONIUS, Cremona, born 1644, died 1737. See separate chapter for a fuller account of this celebrated artiste. STRADIUARIUS, HOMOBONO, Cremona, son of Antonius; made instruments under the direction of his father, which were signed "_Sub disciplina A. Stradiuarius._" STRADIUARIUS, FRANCISCO, Cremona, another son of Antonius, and signed in the same manner as his brother. STRAUBE, ---- Berlin, 1770. Constructed after the Italian model. His instruments are scarce and good. STRNAD, GASPAR, Prague, 1781 to 1793. This maker bears a good reputation. STURIONUS, LAURENTIUS. See Storioni. SURSANO, SPIRITUS, Coni, 1764. T. TAYLOR, ---- London, 1770 to 1820. TECHLER, DAVID, first established himself at Salzburg, and afterwards went to Venice, where the story goes that he was so persecuted by other makers that he fled to Rome, about 1706. He made some excellent and beautiful instruments. They have fine yellow varnish and resemble those of the Tyrolean school of Albani and others. Lindley had a violoncello by this maker which was very fine, and powerful in tone. Another was sold a few years ago by auction, for £50. We have seen a violin of this maker, with very beautiful wood and highly finished workmanship, the tone of which was very pure and polished. TENZEL, ---- One of our catalogues contains a violin by this maker, but we have no particulars. TEODITI, JEROME, Rome, 1750. TESTATOR, IL VECCHIO, Milan, about 1520. A claim has been made for this maker that he was the first to give the name of violino to the reduced viol. TERRESIO, ---- An Italian who died in 1853, was a most eminent judge of instruments. His whole existence seemed to be centered in his art, and his eye became so practised that when travelling to discover old instruments, he took them all to pieces, sides, backs, heads, and all parts, forming a conglomerate mass of pieces of valuable violins. The object of so doing was to avoid the customs' dues which are of course heavy on old instruments. When he reached his destination, he would replace them without the aid of a single mark. After his death his house, or rather his hermitage, was visited by connoisseurs, who found it strewed with different parts of instruments, some being found in the most out of the way places. He had the major part of all the great instruments through his hands. Among other valuable instruments found in his house after his death, was a Gaspar di Salo double bass and a Bergonzi double bass--the latter unique. Both these instruments are now in Mr. Hart's possession. The Gaspar di Salo is very perfect and its tone is unsurpassed. The Bergonzi is quite a curiosity, from its being the only one of his make known. He visited this country during the Exhibition of 1851, and was deeply gratified upon seeing so many high class instruments among the dilettanti here, and the taste and zest the English have in forming collections. TESTORE, CARLO GUISEPPE, Cremona, about 1700. This artiste made some very good instruments after the Guarnerius pattern. The wood of the backs of his violoncellos is mostly pear tree, and the bellies are of splendid wood. The tone is very powerful, but not always so smooth as might be wished. This is another rising name. The celebrated double bass player Bottesini, uses one of this maker's instruments which possesses a splendid tone, and is sufficient to stamp Testore as an excellent maker. If any of his smaller instruments possess as good and fine a tone as this double bass he must be ranked among the best Italian artistes. Use will probably wear away the want of smoothness at present complained of in some of them. TESTORE, CARLO ANTONIO, Milan, about 1710 to 1730. TESTORE, PAOLO ANTONIO, Milan, about 1720 to 1740. Both the above have the reputation of being good makers. Of these artistes we have a note which states that their model was flat, resembling Joseph Guarnerius in shape, but the varnish very inferior and void of colour. THOROWGOOD. HENRY, London, the 18th Century. TOBIN, ---- London, 1800 to 1836. This maker cut most beautiful heads, and his work was neatness in the extreme, so much so indeed as to rob it of decided character. TONINI, FELICE, Bologna. TONINI, ANTONIO, Bologna. TONINI, CARLO, Bologna. TONINI, GUIDO, Bologna. We have no special information on these makers, but they are generally ranked among the good Italian makers. TONONI, CARLO, Venezia, 1699 TONONI, GIOVANNI, Venezia, 1699. The instruments by Tononi are worthy of the highest praise. They are however very scarce. They are of the large pattern, and flat model, with good varnish, and everything about them, including a superior tone, to entitle them to be ranked as excellent instruments. TORING, ---- London. TRUNCO, ---- Cremona, 1660. U. URQUART, THOMAS, London, 1650. An excellent old English maker. He used beautiful varnish (for English) and made many small violins which are useful to young players, being old and the price reasonable. V. VALLER, ---- Marseilles, 1683. VERON, ---- Paris, about 1725. Highly esteemed in France. VIARD, NICHOLAS, Versailles, about 1730. VIBRECHT, GYSBERT, Amsterdam, 1707. VIMERCATI, PAULO, Venezia, 1700. VOGEL, WOLFGANG, Nuremberg. VUILLAUME, JEAN, 1700 to 1740. Worked with Straduarius, and made some good instruments under his own name. VUILLAUME, JEAN BAPTISTE, Paris. Now living. Famous for his copies of Cremonese instruments. This artiste obtained by personal researches in Cremona the particulars of the life of Stradiuarius, which Fetis has embodied in his book. W. WAGNER, JOSEPH, Constance, 1733. WAMSLEY, PETER, London, 1727. A celebrated artiste, who made many excellent instruments. Those with the dark brown varnish are the most valuable. They were mostly of the Steiner patterns. Mr. J. Rodgers, organist of Doncaster Parish Church, has a very beautiful tenor by this maker, which is built in the shape of a double bass, and with very peculiar sound holes instead of the usual S S. WEAVER, SAMUEL, London. WEISS, JACOB, Salzburg, 1761. WENGER, GREGORIO FERDINAND, Salzburg, 1761. WEYMANN, CORNELIUS, Amsterdam, 1682. WIGHTMAN, GEORGE, 1761. WITHALM, LEOPOLD, Nuremberg, 1765 to 1788. Otto says this maker's instruments are worthy the attention of the virtuoso, and are extremely like those of Steiner, and difficult to distinguish from them. WISE, CHRISTOPHER, London, 1656. WORNUM, ---- London, 1794. WRIGHT, DANIEL, London, 1745. Y. YOUNGE, JOHN, London, 1724. Z. ZANETTO, PEREGRINO, Brescia, about 1540. A maker of rebecs, violas, and viols da gamba. ZANTI, ALESSANDRO, Mantua, about 1770. Reckoned among the good Italian makers. BOW MAKERS. It will not be considered out of place in the course of a biographical account of the principal makers of violins, to give a short notice of some eminent persons without whose labours, the violin itself would never have been developed as it has been, to wit, violin bow makers. Much of the elegant finish and refinement of tone and style which distinguish the great players of the violin, if not due altogether to the bow, by which the tone is produced, is at all events greatly aided by it. A Paganini will have a Tourte bow, and so will every other great master, if he can get one. There must be something therefore in the bow, as well as in the violin, more than meets the eye of a casual observer. We have not here space to enter into the subtle niceties which distinguish the bows of Tourte of France, of Dodd of England, and others. Suffice it to say that whoever boasts of an excellent violin should match it with a superior bow. One is incomplete without the other. There are many excellent makers, but we must content ourselves with briefly noticing the most prominent. Suffice it to say in the way of advice and warning that whether the amateur buy an old or a new bow, let him see that its flexibility, which is its great merit, is perfect, and that it is still strong though light and straight. Mr. Bishop in his edition of Otto says the finest bows are those of Vuillaume! He does not even mention any others. Tourte and Dodd do not deem to be worthy his remembrance! There must be nevertheless something in the bows of these makers which commands great respect, for any performer of skill will give (if he can get one, that is the difficulty,) ten or twelve times the amount for a perfect Tourte, which will buy a Vuillaume! There is no doubt that Vuillaume manufactures good bows--but to rank them highest is so palpable a misrepresentation that we have thought it necessary to enter a protest against it. TOURTE, FRANCIS, Paris, born 1747, died 1835. This is conceded, by all the best judges, to be the greatest maker we have ever known, in fact the Stradiuarius of the bow. His father and grandfather were instrumental in improving the bow, but Francis Tourte brought it to the greatest perfection. His bows are light and flexible, yet straight. They are highly finished and made of the finest Brazil wood. He himself sold his bows mounted with gold, at 12 louis, (£11 4s. 6d.) each; with silver 3-1/2 louis (£3 5s. 6d.) It is said the reason of his charging so much was that he found so great a difficulty in getting wood fine enough to satisfy his critical judgment, and that he also made no scruple to break any which did not reach his standard of perfection; he was therefore compelled to charge those sums for such as he permitted to go forth. Whoever wishes to match his cherished Cremona with an equally fine bow will get a Tourte if he can. LUPOT, of Paris, was another excellent maker. His bows are not quite so light as those of Tourte, but they are in all other respects highly esteemed. DODD, EDWARD, born at Sheffield, and died in London, at the age of 105 years, in 1810, was distinguished as an improver of the bow in England, about the same time that the Tourtes were founding their great reputation in France. The great maker of this name, however, and who has achieved the honourable title of the Tourte of England, is DODD, JOHN, the son of Edward. The best bows of this maker are highly esteemed, and partake of all the excellencies of those of Tourte. Some of them, however, are rather short, which is perhaps their only defect. After these come the bows of Panormo, Pecatte, Tubbs, Vuillaume, and other English and Foreign artistes, whose best bows are much esteemed. As between old and new bows, we would observe that in general modern bows are nearly us useless as new violins. The wood of which most of them are made is very inferior to that of the older artistes, and there is always a doubt whether they will stand continued use and remain straight and flexible. With an old bow, if it is straight, there is no fear, with ordinary care, of its remaining so. A good bow is as important as a good violin. THE GREAT CREMONA MAKERS. THE AMATI FAMILY. Cremona! Who has not heard of this now celebrated Italian city? And yet but for a fiddle maker it is very probable indeed that it would never have been known beyond the circle of its own local interests and its relations with neighbouring cities. Now, however, its name is a spell to conjure with. A Cremona Violin is, to a rich amateur, a loadstone that is sure to attract the shining metal from the depths of his purse. Seven hundred pounds have been given for a Guarnerius Violin! Think of that ye dilettanti who are so proud of your pictures and marbles! Even the poor fiddler has his Mecca far away, and it is called Cremona. Like pictures, the Cremona Violins are real works of art, and like them also, were once to be had for trifling sums. Cuyps and Paul Potters, Stradiuarii and Guarnerii were once to be had for three or four pounds each that are now worth as many hundreds. A Cremona instrument has even been considered a worthy gift to pass between crowned heads, Pope Pius V. having presented a violoncello by Andreas Amati to Charles IX. of France. Fleeting however are the honours of time! Cremona has lost its most famous names from among its citizens, and with them its most distinguished characteristic. For nearly a hundred years no maker of great skill has arisen to dispute the glory of the place with the Amati, Stradiuarius, and Guarnerius, by whom the fame of Cremona will be carried to the latest generations. It is now about three centuries since there flourished at Cremona its first great violin maker. Andreas Amati appears to have been born there in 1520, and died in 1580. The family was an ancient one, and is mentioned as early as 1097 in the records of the city. It is a remarkable fact, and shows in a strong light the difference of manners and customs in different countries that both Amati and Stradiuarius seem to have been of ancient and honourable families, and yet notwithstanding their adopting an avocation which would in England be thought to tarnish an old family name, they lived and died respected and honoured by their fellow citizens. There is no account of how or of whom Andrew Amati acquired the art of violin making; but it is clear that by some means he had attained to a considerable amount of skill. Under the head of Gaspar di Salo, we have however hazarded a conjecture that he had been to Brescia for the first principles of the art, but that he had adopted little that he found there except the varnish and the general routine of the workshop. Some of his instruments are described as beautifully made, and to have amber varnish of excellent quality of a deep rich yellow tinted with brown or light red colour. His violins appear to have been chiefly of the small pattern and high model. The backs are mostly cut the reverse way of the grain to the present rule, forming what are now termed "slab" backs. They possess a delicate graceful tone of wonderful sweetness, which has also been more or less the chief characteristic of the other makers of this family. With reference to this peculiarity, an eminent writer observes that in the times in which the Amati lived, the tone was not required to be of that powerful character which modern players demand, and that such an immense tone as many later instruments possess would not then have been tolerated. This is very probable, and may account also for the elevated model which was adopted both by Andrew and some others of the Amati. This model conjoined with their beautiful workmanship and generally small size, combined to produce that elegant delicious sweet tone which of all other makers, the Amatis especially possess. They also, all of them, made a greater number of instruments of the smaller size than what is known as the grand pattern, no doubt because the tone produced by them was found generally sufficient. They were also made to carry a much lower bridge and a lighter bass bar than are now used, and the proportions were arranged accordingly. On this point M. Maugin, author of a Treatise, entitled Manuel du Luthier, makes some remarks which we have translated as pertinent and valuable. Speaking on the subject of repairing old instruments, he says, "There is no violin maker now, who does not put, whether in the instruments he has to repair, or in those which he makes, a much stronger bar than those which were employed by the great makers themselves. They must have felt the necessity of doing this or they would not all act in this way. Now what is the reason of this mode of working? I have seen in the hands of rich amateurs, several instruments which have been preserved with a religious care, absolutely in the form which Amati and Stradiuarius had given to them. The bridges of these violins had only an inch and a fraction of height above the belly, while now-adays bridges have a height of an inch and (say) three-eighths. Now, the belly being put into vibration by strings at a great distance from it, and these strings vibrating by themselves more at the distance of fourteen lines than at twelve, it has been found necessary to strengthen the bar which, without that, being drawn into too great a vibration, would give to the strings sol and re a cottony sound which would have quite spoiled the goodness of the instrument." M. Maugin does not say why higher bridges are now used, but there is no doubt on this point. All judges concur that the pitch having been so greatly raised since the old instruments were built, a stronger bar has been found necessary, to counterbalance the increased tension of the higher bridge. Andrew Amati gave to his instruments a still more decided swell than the later members of his family, his successors no doubt finding a diminution in the rise of the model to produce a fuller if not a sweeter tone. This principle was gradually carried forward till it culminated in Antonius Stradiuarius, who brought it to perfection and demonstrated that the flat model produced the greatest vibration and consequently the most powerful tone. Otto in his celebrated work on the Construction of the Violin, does not mention Andrew Amati, but says that those of Hieronymus were the oldest Cremona Violins. This is one of the mistakes in his original work which renders it comparatively useless. Connoisseurs and collectors have dissipated those errors, and we now know to a certainty that to Andrew Amati of Cremona, and Gaspar di Salo of Brescia, (of whom also Otto was ignorant,) we owe the establishment of these two great schools of violin making. From their great age, the instruments of these two great makers are now very rare. They are most of them about three centuries old, and though they appear to have made a considerable number, they have through the influences of time and accident gradually disappeared. Some of Andrew Amati's instruments are still left however in the hands of dilettanti and collectors, and retain that distinguishing characteristic of delicious and sympathetic quality which has been the chief charm of all the Amati productions. Andrew had a brother called NICHOLAS, of whom little appears to be known. After ANDREW, as great makers, come his two sons ANTONIUS and HIERONYMUS, who flourished from 1550 to 1634. ANTONIUS made many small pattern violins, which possess in the highest degree the distinguishing characteristic of the family--a sweet but not powerful tone. He also constructed some of a larger pattern. ANTONIUS and HIERONYMUS conjointly built a number of large pattern violins, which are of high finish and beautiful wood. They are very highly esteemed, and a well preserved example will command a large price. NICHOLAS was the greatest artiste of this deservedly celebrated family, and many instruments still exist to attest the excellence of his workmanship and his knowledge of the proportions requisite to produce a fine tone. He also built many small pattern instruments, but he appears to have almost anticipated Stradiuarius and succeeded in producing some instruments of the grand pattern which possess a very powerful as well as sweet tone, and are considered to rival in every respect the famous instruments of that great master. Some of his violins possess a distinguishing mark in a rather abrupt rise in the centre. Otto describes it as a "sharp ridge." It is not exactly so, but is still very different to the gradual swell on the other Cremona instruments. His best violins, which are known by the title of Grand Amatis, are those which approximate closely to the very best instruments of Stradiuarius and Guarnerius. There can be no doubt therefore, that in these fine specimens of his skill, he had hit upon the same principles which afterwards guided those distinguished artistes in the construction of those most renowned violins which now command the admiration of violinists throughout the world. We have said that the chief characteristic of the Amati violins is a sweet but not powerful tone. It is necessary to qualify and explain this remark. From their excellent construction and beautiful wood, which has evidently been selected with the greatest care for its resonant quality--their age and long and careful use, their tone is divested of all extraneous properties, and become fine and pure. Notwithstanding therefore their original small tone, when fitted with the modern appliances of larger bars and higher bridges, some have been found quite competent for all purposes. In 1861 the celebrated instrument by Antonius Amati, which was presented by George IV. to Francois Cramer, was sold by auction, and it was stated in the catalogue that that great performer always led the Ancient and other concerts on that instrument. The fact no doubt is that it is the fine and pure quality of tone that tells, arising from age, constant use, and beautiful woods. They seem to be now divested of all extraneous characteristics and are become refined and ethereal, and are in fact the nightingales of the stringed tribe. That the Stradiuarius and Guarnerius have equal quality combined with more power arising from their flatter model is undoubted, and therefore they are the most valued. It is believed that the finest specimen of the skill of Nicholas Amati is in the possession of Ole Bull. It is of the large pattern, and possesses a magnificent tone, as many of our readers have no doubt heard. We think we shall please our readers by inserting verbatim the following excellent description of the Amati instruments, furnished to us by an able and experienced connoisseur. He says:-- "NICHOLAS AMATI and the BROTHERS AMATI. The tone is with few exceptions sweet in quality and seldom powerful, but admirably suited to the amateur. The workmanship is of the highest order, which conduces to this result. The wood must have been selected with great judgment. The bellies are nearly always of a fine reedy nature. Sometimes the backs are whole backs (in one piece), at others in two, more often the latter. The varnish of a beautiful amber colour, and there are a few instances of fine red. The sides generally rather shallow, heads of exquisite form and well defined. The care bestowed upon them alone bespeaks the hand of the artist. There are several magnificent tenors and violoncellos, and perhaps three or four double basses. The tenors are sometimes seen of large size. The Amati family made several sets of instruments for foreign courts, which bear their particular arms, mostly beautifully painted on the backs. The violins known as Grand Amatis are the best, and were made by Nicholas Amati. They take their name from their size. He also made many long pattern instruments, and also several three quarter violins, which have conferred a great boon upon juvenile violinists who are able to purchase them, by giving them an opportunity of early becoming familiar with the irreproachable Italian quality of tone." In reference to the remark made in the preceding paragraph, it is recorded that a set of instruments, no doubt one of those therein alluded to, was made for Charles 9th of France by Andrew Amati, consisting of twenty-four violins, six violas, and eight basses. These were lost from Versailles in 1790, and have not been recovered, except two which M. Cartier discovered some years since. Notwithstanding that Andrew Amati was the first maker of any note, except Gaspar di Salo of Brescia, it is clear that he had attained an astonishing amount of skill, as there is an account of a violoncello which was offered by auction at the sale of the celebrated Sir Wm. Curtis's instruments by Mr. Musgrave, who in the catalogue stated that "a document was given to the proprietor when he purchased this instrument, stating that it was presented by Pope Pius 5th to Charles 9th of France for his chapel. It has been richly painted, the arms of France being on the back, and the motto 'Pietate et Justitia' on the sides. The tone of this violoncello is of extraordinary power and richness." Mr. Forster supposes this to have been one of the instruments mentioned before, but that would destroy the value of the document given to Sir William, because if Andrew Amati made it for Pope Pius 5th, who presented it to Charles 9th it could not have been one of those made by him expressly for that monarch. It is clear however that the tone was both grand and fine, and therefore the first of the Amatis must have attained great ability in his art. We have before mentioned the celebrated Nicholas Amati violin, dated 1679, formerly the property of the same distinguished collector, Sir W. Curtis, and which has since been sold by Mr. Hart to the great violinist Ole Bull. This is considered the finest specimen of the Amati skill and was thus described in the catalogue of the sale--"This is justly considered as one of the most beautiful and finest instruments in the WHOLE WORLD." The Count de Castelbarco of Milan, possessed a quartett of instruments by Nicholas Amati, which have since been sold in London (see the article on Stradiuarius.) M. Fetis describes these as _admirable_, but as our readers will see, the English connoisseurs do not appear to have coincided generally with the critic on their quality, as only one of them produced any great price. There is a splendid grand Amati in the hands of an amateur in Derbyshire, which formerly belonged to Mr. Hankey the banker, for whom it was purchased with others by Viotti, who dedicated several of his compositions to him. This instrument possesses in an eminent degree the admirable qualities of the Amati tone, with also considerable power. Another of the same set in the same hands is a splendid Stradiuarius of the large pattern with a magnificent tone. There are many fine examples of the different makers of this celebrated name in this country. English connoisseurs suffer those of no other nation to excel them in their collections. ANTONIUS STRADIUARIUS. A most interesting account of Antonius Stradiuarius, who is generally thought to be the greatest maker of the violin--has been published by M. Fetis, and translated into English by Mr. Bishop of Cheltenham. In addition to records of his family, which was an ancient one in Cremona, obtained by M. Vuillaume in his persevering labours in search of information, and which he placed at the service of M. Fetis--the latter enters deeply into what we may call the science of violin making, and presents us with many interesting and valuable experiments which have been made on fragments of the great instruments, in order to ascertain the exact principles which enabled Stradiuarius to build with such undeviating and brilliant success. The book is well worthy the perusal of all amateurs of the violin. ANTONIUS STRADIUARIUS was born in Cremona, in 1644, and died there in 1737, having lived in the peaceful exercise of his art to the great age of ninety-three. There is a violin still extant which bears his signature and proves this fact. In the early part of his life, he was a pupil of Nicholas Amati, and some of his early productions bear his master's name, as seems to have been the custom. These instruments have the Amati characteristics, and have some of the backs cut the contrary way of the grain, forming what are known by the name of "slab" backs. He afterwards enlarged his model and adopted a flatter pattern, and arrived at the greatest perfection about 1700. From that period to 1725, everything he made bore the impress of the great master. In shape, the cutting of the S holes, the varnish, and the accuracy with which all the parts were adjusted in harmonical relation, from that time he excelled all who had gone before him, or who have since attempted the difficult task of vying with him. All these instruments are of the flat pattern, which is now proved to be best adapted for the production of a rich, deep and powerful tone. It would appear that the more elevated model used before his time, although it allowed of very fine quality of tone, tended to prevent that strong vibration which is the cause of great tone. M. Fetis insists that the violins of Stradiuarius were as good and fine in quality of tone when made as they are now, contrary to the established opinion that time is necessary as well as use for refining and perfecting all violins. He gives an instance of a violin made by Stradiuarius, now in Paris, which he states has never been played upon--but we must beg to doubt this fact. Though we are ready to admit that the careful adjustment of the different parts and the selection of fine wood, would tend to perfect the tone of these instruments, much sooner than others less carefully fashioned, yet in the instance he brings forward in support of his theory, it does not appear quite so clear that the violin never had been played upon. On the contrary, there are many years unaccounted for, in his description of it, during which it might have undergone considerable use. It appears almost impossible that while in the hands of various possessors, so fine an instrument should have been suffered to lie idle in a cabinet, as though it were a picture to be looked at, but not touched. From its condition, however, it is clear that it had always been in hands that prized it, for he describes it as having quite the appearance of a new instrument. In this respect, therefore, we must still adopt the opinion of the most eminent judges, including that recorded by Spohr, that it requires both time and use to perfect all instruments of the violin class. It would appear moreover that this has always been a settled belief, for even Mace in his "Music's Monument," published in 1676, says "We chiefly value old instruments before new for by experience they are found to be far the best." As to the condition of this instrument which Fetis states to be quite unique for its perfection and apparent newness, our countryman, Mr. Gardiner, in his interesting work, "Music and Friends," says that Mr. Champion, an amateur had given 300 guineas for a Stradiuarius violin and tenor, of a beautiful yellow colour inclining to orange, and which appeared to have been untouched since the day they were made. Here then in this country is a double instance of the same fact as to condition, for which M. Fetis claims for the Paris instrument the title of unique. The fact is that these fine violins have for many years been so highly appreciated that their possessors have taken the most extraordinary care to prevent their being damaged or disfigured, and there are many instances of violins in equally perfect condition. After 1725, at which date Stradiuarius was 80 years old, his work lost some of its characteristic excellence though still of great merit. His sons, Homobono and Francesco, now assisted him, but he appears still to have signed them, occasionally adding to their names however, the words _sub disciplina A. Stradiuarius_. He had many pupils, the chief and the best of whom was Carlo Bergonzi. There were also Gobetti of Venice, Guadagnini of Cremona, Michael Angelo Bergonzi, and others mentioned in the dictionary. Fine examples of the works of his pupils are now becoming very valuable, and are well worthy attention. Stradiuarius made a few instruments inlaid with ebony and ivory round the edges. There is a quartett of them, all bearing the same date 1687. One is in the collection of Charles Plowden, Esq.; the other violin belongs to a gentleman in Staffordshire; the violoncello belongs to the Queen of Spain, and the tenor was once the property of Sir Wm. Curtis. This is a very curious and remarkable set of instruments, very highly finished and in fine preservation. There is also another violin inlaid which belonged to the late Dr. Camidge of York, bearing date 1713. A. Fountain, Esq., has in his possession, the last violin which Stradiuarius made. This instrument is known as the Habenock Violin from the previous owner's name from whom Mr. Fountain had it. Charles Plowden, Esq., has a quartett of splendid instruments by Stradiuarius, of which one violin is of the Grand Pattern, dated 1719; another dated 1711; which are perfect in model and preservation, and both first-class; the third is a remarkable violin, with rich golden varnish, dated 1709--a perfect instrument, which has been twice sold for £600, was formerly the property of Emiliani and is still known by his name. The fourth violin is the inlaid instrument mentioned above. Besides these, Mr. Plowden possesses a magnificent violoncello by Stradiuarius--a remarkable specimen both for beauty and tone; and also, four violins by Joseph Guarnerius which will be mentioned under the head of that master. There is in Derbyshire a very fine Stradiuarius which was purchased by Viotti for his friend Mr. Hankey, from whom this and the Amati mentioned elsewhere went to his brother, a distinguished amateur, who died some years ago. Wm. Howard, Esq., of Sheffield, has a fine Stradiuarius violin, of the most beautiful yellow varnish, splendid wood, fine tone, and perfect condition, which formerly belonged to Salomon. We may also mention here that the late eminent violinist Ernst, played upon a very fine Stradiuarius Violin which was presented to him by A. Fountain, Esq., an ardent admirer of that famous player. Joachim also uses a Stradiuarius. Servais, the great French performer, uses a Stradiuarius Violoncello, which is said to be the handsomest known, and which cost him 500 guineas. The value of the best productions of the genius of Stradiuarius is now very great. Mr. Betts, of London, had one for which he refused the enormous sum of £500, and Dragonetti also refused £800 for a double bass. The highest price, £600 however was given twice for the violin now belonging to Mr. Plowden. But even such prices have been exceeded by that of the celebrated King Joseph Guarnerius mentioned elsewhere, which realised £700. It must not be understood however that such prices are the rule, for it is only for extraordinary specimens that any such great sum can be obtained. Excellent instruments are frequently sold for much smaller amounts, and it must also be remembered that none but those made from about 1700 to 1725 realise such enormous sums. His earlier productions, which resemble those of his master, and which are known by the name of Stradiuarius Amatis, can be had occasionally for moderate prices. An undoubted violin of any period of this great master's make, is well worthy the attention of the virtuoso. They are all good, but the grand pattern of this wonderful genius, possessing equal sweetness with greatly increased power, are only now to be had by connoisseurs of unlimited means. As an illustration of the more moderate prices which these fine productions command, we think it may interest our readers to give here the result of a public sale of Cremona instruments belonging to the Count de Castelbarco of Milan, a distinguished amateur. M. Fetis in his work states that the Count possessed "two quartetts of Stradiuarius, very remarkable instruments; another of Joseph Guarnerius; a fourth of Nicholas Amati, and lastly a quartett of Steiner," of which he specially particularises the Tenor as "being a model of perfection as to workmanship, and the tone of which is of extreme beauty." These instruments were sold by auction by Messrs. Puttick and Simpson, on the 26th June, 1862. We quote the report of the "Times," by which it will be seen that our English connoisseurs did not appreciate them so highly as M. Fetis. The "Times" did not mention the Guarnerii and the Steiner at all, we presume because the prices were nothing remarkable. LOT. 1 Violin by Stradiuarius, 1712 £ 70 2 Violin by Stradiuarius, 1699 £ 56 5 Tenor Violin by Stradiuarius, 1715 £100 6 Violin by Stradiuarius, 1701 £135 8 Violin by Stradiuarius, 1685 £135 9 Violin by Stradiuarius, 1713 £ 90 12 Violin by Nicholas Amati 39 gs. 13 Violin by Andrew Amati 36 gs. 26 Violoncello, Stradiuarius 1697 £210 28 Violoncello, Stradiuarius 1687 £115 30 Violoncello, Nicholas Amati 1687 £130 31 Original Letter by Stradiuarius £ 8 At the same sale a Grand Amati Violin, jewelled at the corners, £60; Violin by Guarnerius, 38 guineas. In addition to the above we may mention that the Stradiuarius Violin, which once belonged to a member of the Medici Family, was sold by auction a short time ago, at the Hotel de Drouet in Paris, for 5,745f., about £230, an excellent price for a Parisian connoisseur. We have already mentioned many fine instruments by Stradiuarius which are in the hands of connoisseurs and performers. We will now mention a fact which in the estimation of all true lovers of these fine violins is to be greatly regretted. It is not the only instance, as probably our readers are aware that the celebrated Guarnerius Violin of Paganini, is now locked up in a museum at Genoa. There is at a museum in the city of Florence, a quartett of beautiful instruments by Stradiuarius, consisting of two violins, tenor, and violoncello, which were presented to the institution by an Italian Nobleman, whose ancestors purchased them from the master himself. These instruments are most beautiful and in the highest preservation. But of all other curiosities, Cremona Violins are the most unsuitable for a museum, because they lie there dead, and are no more than names. The soul of music which is embodied in them is imprisoned within wood and crystal, and is no more heard of men. Let no one leave his Cremona to a museum. Before closing our account of this great master, it may not be uninteresting to state in his life time, he appears to have charged about £4 for a violin, and that he made so many during the course of his long and industrious career, that his fellow citizens spoke of him as rich. "As rich as Stradiuarius," was a common remark, as we see by M. Fetis' notice. Another anecdote is, that Cervetto, an Italian merchant in London, had a consignment of violins from the master himself, and as he could not get four pounds each for them he returned them. This appears strongly to disprove the assertion that his instruments were as good when made as they are now, especially when we find that in 1662, £40 was given for two Cremona violins for King Charles' band, no doubt the elder Amati's, which at that date would be getting mellowed by time. It is clear that King Charles, or the leader of his band, knew the value of Cremona instruments, for reckoning the difference in the value of money at the two periods, £20 then would purchase £120 worth of goods now. It is therefore extraordinary that if they were as good new as when they are old, the paltry sum of four pounds could not be got for them. The real truth no doubt is that whoever the maker, time must be the refiner, and even genius like that of Stradiuarius and Guarnerius could not impart that grand, rich, and mellow tone which distinguishes them without the aid of old Father Time. THE CREMONA VARNISH. Those who desire to make themselves acquainted with the chief characteristics of the great Cremona makers should take every opportunity of examining genuine instruments. In addition to the other external indications we have pointed out, one of the most important, which is also the most difficult, if not impossible to imitate, is the varnish, including the colour. None of them seem to have adhered to one colour only. The present master for instance covered some of his finest violins with a deep rich yellow, almost approaching to orange. Others again will be found of a fine red, having something of a most lovely light cherry tint. Now these colours were mixed by the best makers with amber varnish of the purest and clearest consistency, and both colours and varnish are perfectly free from that muddy sort of appearance which so often disfigures modern instruments. The effect is that of perfect transparency. You look at a clear perfect rich colour, as it were, through the purest crystal. This is one of the most certain indications of a genuine instrument. The moderns unfortunately seem to have lost the secret of making this lovely transparent clear coloured varnish, and the consequence is that a connoisseur of ability and experience never doubts when he sees an instrument whether it be the work of a great master. It is however supposed that all the genuine productions of the chief Cremona makers are now known, and we would not therefore have our readers flatter themselves they can pick up any of them in a casual way. Vigilant eyes and sharp judgments have long swept over Europe in search of them. But the advantage is this--that a knowledge of the best enables the amateur to discern a near approach to it, and thus distinguish those makers who are not so well known, though, being the pupils and followers of the great masters, they are well worthy of his choice. Large diamonds are rare and very dear. A smaller gem must suffice the amateur of moderate means. THE GUARNERIUS FAMILY. This is another glorious name in the annals of Cremona. Many of the first connoisseurs, now hesitate whether to apply the epithet greatest to Guarnerius or to Stradiuarius. The palm is therefore divided between them. Certain it is however that inasmuch as money rules the world, if we resort to that test, Guarnerius is the brightest gem, for it is recorded that he has sold for £700 and Stradiuarius for only £600. Most of the rich connoisseurs therefore desire to possess both. The great players, to whom money is more an object, divide their affections between them, and are satisfied with either one or the other, as chance or opportunity may decide. The first of this celebrated family was Andreas, who was born in 1630 and died about 1695. He appears to have been a pupil of Nicholas Amati, and shows much of his teacher's careful finish. His instruments are generally beautifully made, of good and handsome wood, with excellent varnish, principally of amber colour like that of the Amatis. He also occasionally, but much more seldom, used red coloured varnish. This artiste is not famous for producing a great tone in his instruments, and he is therefore not elevated to the first class, but he made very good violins which are well worthy the attention of the amateur. We have seen a very fine specimen in the hands of A. Bright, Esq., of Sheffield, which was purchased of Mr. Hart, and which is decidedly the best instrument we have seen of this master. It is remarkably handsome, of a beautiful yellow colour, the back of one piece with rather small figure, the ribs similar, the head most carefully and accurately formed and the belly of fine wood. The tone is also more powerful than Andrew's violins generally are, and it is altogether a very fine example of his work. GUISEPPE GUARNERIUS is considered to be the son of Andrew, and his instruments are generally signed as filius Andræ, very probably to distinguish him from his more celebrated cousin and namesake, who is besides generally known by the name of Joseph del Gesu. Guiseppe's instruments are very similar to his cousin's in quality--but less powerful and probably not so round in tone. They have however, a firm well defined kind of sound, which is always pleasing both to the player and the hearer, the former never feeling that the tone will give way under his bow. There are a great number with "slab" backs. The varnish is of first quality, and his violins are yearly becoming more valuable and of greater importance. We have seen a violoncello by this master, which is very fine. The back, ribs and head of very beautiful small figured wood. The belly of very fine grained wood, the bate looking like fine threads of silk stretched at regular intervals the whole width and length of the instrument, and with an exceedingly rich red varnish. It possesses also a fine quality of tone, and is dated 1713. PIETRO, another son of Andreas, dates from 1690 to 1720. In the latter part of his life, he appears to have removed from Cremona to Mantua, his labels bearing date from thence. He was a pupil of his father, but is said not to have equalled him in careful finish. His instruments, however, command considerable respect and fetch a good price, a violoncello of his being recorded to have sold a few years ago for £120. JOSEPH, nephew of Andreas, born in 1683, and died in 1745, is the last and best of the race of violin makers of this name. He was distinguished by the title of Joseph del Gesu, through his using on his labels, the monogram I.H.S., with a cross over or through the H. His career appears to have been of a very chequered complexion. From all the accounts that have come down to us, he seems to have been a man of irregular habits and eccentric genius. In consequence of these peculiarities, his instruments differ greatly in their characteristics. Neither the model, the wood, nor the varnish possesses much verisimilitude at different periods of his career. They are all, however, marked by the stamp of genius, and give but little trouble to a well informed connoisseur. Even under the most distressing circumstances, when on some account, he was confined in prison, and was obliged to be indebted to his gaoler's daughter for the materials with which he worked, they still bear the characteristics and originality of a great master. The finish, however, of those which he made at this period was inferior to the others, being rather coarse and slovenly, and the work altogether little indicating externally the signs of that real excellence which they possess. At his best period, however, his instruments are of rare beauty and merit, and equal or perhaps excel those of Stradiuarius. The wood he then used was of fine quality, and the varnish rich and lustrous and very often of similar lovely tints as those of that master. Many of his instruments are of rather small pattern, but in his best period, he produced some of large size and of extraordinary power and grandeur of tone. Among them was the famous favourite violin of Paganini, the renown of which, says M. Vuillaume, "was equal to that of its master." This was the instrument on which, the most celebrated of all violin players the world ever saw, produced those extraordinary effects which astonished the whole musical world, and which will never be forgotten by those who heard them, nor perhaps excelled by any other. These instruments are however unfortunately very rare, and as rich connoisseurs will have them if possible, the value of them has come to be very great. We have elsewhere mentioned the magnificent violin known by the name of the King Joseph Guarnerius, for which Mr. Hart received the enormous sum of £700, which is the largest amount ever obtained for a violin on record. This splendid violin is of large pattern, with beautiful rich orange yellow varnish and splendid wood. It was imported into this country by Mr. Hart, and has been in the hands of those enthusiastic and judicious collectors, Mr. James Goding and Mr. Stewart. Joseph Guarnerius appears to have endeavoured to produce the grandest tone, combining majesty and refinement. Many people think he did so without thought or design, but we think otherwise. In the first place he seems to have fixed on Gaspar di Salo and Magini as his models, for if a comparison be made we shall find there are many points which resemble these instruments, for example, the peculiar shaped sound holes, the manner in which they are placed and the flat model, all of which tend to produce power, while he obtained the quality from the wonderful ingenuity he exercised in leaving the thicknesses of the wood in evidently the correct places, which was the necessary step in advance. He certainly made many rough instruments which are ascribed to his imprisonment, and which are now called the Prison Guarnerii, but the varnish on these even is not surpassed. He made many of a rich yellow colour, and others of red, the latter of which are matchless instruments. His heads are not finely cut, but the character he gave them has never been excelled. In the first rank of Joseph Guarnerius instruments we must no doubt place that belonging to Paganini, which would, if it could be obtained, command an extraordinary price, and there are also many other noble productions of his skill extant. The King Joseph Guarnerius we have before mentioned. Mr. Plowden has four very valuable violins by this master. One was formerly the property of Mr. Goding, and was esteemed by him the finest in his collection. Another is quite equal, more highly finished and has his splendid red varnish. The third was formerly the property of Ole Bull, and is considered of the finest model of the master in his more unfinished and larger sized instruments, dated 1714. The fourth, less well known, but perhaps more perfect, certainly in tone, 1742. These four instruments are considered by most of the virtuosi, to be probably the finest examples extant of this great master. Certainly there are few collectors who can boast of having so many fine violins as these four by Guarnerius, and the four by Stradiuarius previously described. Mr. Plowden has always gone on the principle of getting the very best instruments of each master, and his taste and judgment are well evidenced in his collection. The late Earl of Falmouth possessed some very valuable instruments such as the Kiesewetter Guarnerius and the Jarnovick Guarnerius, so named after their owners, and also a fine Magini Tenor, all of which were purchased by Mr. Hart. The late lamented Prince Consort had a very fine tenor by Joseph Guarnerius, which was highly finished and had belonged to Dragonetti. There are many other fine specimens of Guarnerius in this country. English collectors, with that splendid contempt for cost which distinguishes them, allow no fine instruments to leave the country if they know it, and the consequence is that in the present day, and for some time back, England ranks first in the number and value of the Cremona Violins she possesses. Next comes France, who has some able connoisseurs; then Russia and Germany. Italy, strange to say, has suffered them all to leave her, and though the native country of Stradiuarius and Guarnerius, it is doubtful whether other nations have not attracted all the finest instruments out of her own possession. The great rise in the value of these extraordinary instruments is no doubt due to the fact that they were built very strong in wood, the effect of which would be to depreciate the tone when they were built, but which, now time has ameliorated them and the wood has become capable of free vibration, has refined the quality and increased the tone. Fifty years ago, a Guarnerius of the best time might have been bought for £50 that will now command £500. Neither does it appear that they have yet reached their climax, for they are yearly increasing in value as the examples we have mentioned clearly show. THE GREAT TYROLESE MAKER. JACOB STEINER. The time has been when the instruments of this master, whose name is perhaps yet as widely known as the Cremonese, were very highly esteemed in England. In Germany it is so yet, and many of the amateurs of that country flatter themselves that Steiner ranks first in the roll of famous violin makers. Their celebrated violinist, Spohr, however, in his remarks on the subject inserted in his Violin School does not coincide with the opinion of his fellow countrymen to this effect, for he puts Steiner in the second rank, reserving to the first Nicholas Amati, Antonius Stradiuarius, and Joseph Guarnerius. In this decision he also generally expresses the opinion of the travelled professional violinists of his own country as well as all Europe. But it is well known that in Germany a well preserved instrument of Steiner's best period will sell for much more money than any where else. In England more especially we adopt exactly the reverse valuation. Steiner will not now command a greater price than many of the pupils of the great masters, and perhaps to some extent this may arise from the immense number of spurious instruments bearing his name, which the inferior Tyrolese makers put forth to the world and palmed on a credulous public as his genuine instruments. Perhaps no master has been more copied and imitated, both in Germany and elsewhere. In England the violin makers in the beginning of the eighteenth century, mostly copied the pattern and model of Steiner. There must, therefore, be some good and powerful reason for this general depreciation in value and reputation which Steiner has suffered. This the candid inquirer readily finds in the fact that the instruments of Steiner, which were generally constructed on a high and peculiar model were only calculated for the production of a thin though sparkling tone, while the Italians aimed, particularly in the flatter instruments, to obtain a full rich and round tone. This distinction is apparent even in the older Cremona makers, but if we compare those of Steiner with those of Nicholas Amati, of Stradiuarius, or Guarnerius, the thin tone of the former and the rich round tone of the latter become instantly most striking. The consequence is that the rich amateurs who form collections, and the great performers whose interest it is to please by the quality of tone as well as the grace and finish of their execution, no longer purchase the Steiner violins except as matters of curiosity in the case of a very fine example. We do not know any great player who uses a Steiner instrument, as we shall show in another article. We therefore only now class Steiner among the great masters, from his past reputation, and for certain special instruments. JACOB STEINER was a native of the Tyrol, and was born at Absom, near Inspruck, about 1620. It is said that an old instrument by Kerlino, which he found in the house, gave him his first tendencies towards the art of violin making. Certain it is however that while yet a youth he obtained employment in the workshop of Nicholas Amati. This was an excellent school for the young aspirant, and after some years he made some instruments which, with the exception of sixteen which will be mentioned later, are considered to be the finest specimens of his talent. These fine violins are the product of his Cremonese inspiration, and bear a written label signed by himself and dated from Cremona about 1644. These instruments are modelled higher than those of his master, thus showing a singular divergence from the principle of gradual decrease in the height of the model of the Amatis, from Andrew to Nicholas. This divergence from that principle, which ended in the flat model of Stradiuarius, must be considered to be the real cause of the loss of favour which the Steiner violins, though beautiful in other respects, have undergone. Steiner exaggerated the old practice instead of following the new lights of science, and while the latter have yielded the brightest results, the former has tarnished the real talent of this otherwise excellent artiste. Probably another reason for the defective tone of Steiner's instruments in comparison with the Cremonese and Brescian, is the practice of modelling his violins with an extraordinary and peculiar rise to about the foot of the bridge, and then keeping it nearly flat. Otto describes it thus, "the breadth of this raised part is about the same as the bridge itself, and then it falls off towards the edges. The model is precisely similar towards the neck and on the broad part (beneath the finger board.)" This description is only imperfect in this point that sufficient stress is not laid on the words _fall off_. It is literally a falling off, and on the principles of acoustics must of necessity make the tone thin. Andrew Amati, on the contrary, built nearly as high, but beautifully and gradually sloped them down to the purfling, and his instruments, though small in tone, are yet full, round and sweet. In other respects Steiner at this period was a most careful maker, and his instruments show very fine finish and workmanship. They are of the small pattern, with the S holes rather shorter than the Cremonas, somewhat narrow and beautifully formed; the head also smaller and particularly round and smooth. The varnish is similar to that of the Amatis, and the wood of the belly has a fine open grain. After the production of these instruments at Cremona, Steiner removed to his native place and having married the daughter of Antonius Amati appears to have lost his ambition, and made many very inferior instruments. His history at this period is somewhat melancholy. Pressed by the necessities of a family and the want of active patronage, his genius languished and he became negligent and careless in his work. This continued for some time till fortune again smiled upon him, when not being compelled to sell for immediate wants he again resumed his careful finish and began to be distinguished as a good maker. At about this period Klotz and Albani became his pupils, and he produced some excellent instruments, which are often distinguished by the scrolls being ornamented with lions heads which are beautifully carved. These and the heads of other animals are supposed to denote the crests of his patrons at this period. They are dated from about 1650 to 1667 at Absom. Fetis says the French violinist, Alard, has a violin of this period of the greatest beauty, and that there is in Paris a genuine Steiner, which he has heard Sivori play upon, which although of a very small pattern has an unusually brilliant tone. Now comes the most brilliant period of this artiste's history in a musical sense, though somewhat romantic and mysterious otherwise. Retiring to a monastery, it is said after the death of his wife, he there passed the remainder of his life, but there does not appear to be any positive information when he died. While there, however, he resolved to distinguish the close of his career by the construction of some violins of super-eminent beauty and quality. This he accomplished by the aid of the superior, who obtained for him some very fine wood, out of which those most famous instruments, known by the name of _Elector Steiners_ were made by him. These are the violins which by common consent most entitle this artiste to rank with the great masters. They are of the very highest quality of the Steiner tone, which Dubourg describes as "a pure ringing ethereal tone, comparable to that of a woman's perfect voice--a shape of elegance--studied finish in every detail, and a diaphonous varnish of golden hue." Such are the characteristics, says this enthusiastic admirer of these productions of Steiner's third or last epoch. There were sixteen of these violins, one of which he presented to each of the twelve Electors, and the remaining four to the Emperor. Unfortunately thirteen of them appear to have been lost, and the remainder have all been in royal hands, the Empress Maria Theresa, the Duke of Orleans, grandfather of King Louis Philippe, and Frederick William of Prussia, and been presented by them (except the last) to eminent foreign violinists. We have now presented a concise sketch of the career of this celebrated artiste, and it is to be regretted that none of his more celebrated violins are known to be in this country, to enable us to judge more accurately, whether he succeeded, in any of them, in producing any close approximation to the rich round tone of the best Cremona makers. The best of those known to English connoisseurs are characterised by the thin though brilliant tone we have described, which, when compared with the Italian masterpieces, has led to their general depreciation in the estimation of the highest authorities and the most distinguished performers on the violin. WHY ARE CERTAIN VIOLINS OF MORE VALUE THAN OTHERS? In considering this question, several difficulties present themselves to the inquirer. We are all aware of the infinite diversity of tastes in the first instance, and in the next, accurate judgment is a matter which depends on the union of so many qualities that it is rare indeed to find two opinions completely alike. Nevertheless we do find that there are a few instruments which by universal consent have become the standard of taste. They are "the glass of fashion and the mould of form" in the violin world. An appeal to these famous violins must therefore be of some service in this inquiry, which is of very considerable importance, because its object is to decide what is that tone which confers that immense value which some violins have realised as distinguished from that which possesses only a merit of so inferior a character as to become scarcely valuable in any degree. In other words, what are the distinguishing characteristics of tone of the violins made by Nicholas Amati, Antonius Stradiuarius, and Joseph Guarnerius. These three makers are now the Raphaels, the Titians, and the Claudes of the musical world, and a few thoughts on their works in connection with this subject may help us to a decision on this difficult point, at least to the great bulk of amateurs. We will divide the inquiry into three heads. 1. Power. 2. Sweetness. 3. Purity. In considering the first point, power, the amateur will have to beware of a very possible mistake he may fall into. There is _apparent_ power under the ear, arising from coarseness. This is a species of power which is observable chiefly by the player. The listener, especially if at a little distance, does not hear this power. The tone is clogged and thickened with the resinous particles which have remained in the wood and which perhaps, from its nature may never leave it altogether, and the vibration is not therefore perfect. Another cause of false power is a certain imperfect build wherein the parts are not properly calculated as in the fine Cremona productions. These two classes of instruments are very apt to deceive unpractised ears. But a moment's comparison with one of the genuine great masters will show them in a most unmistakable manner the difference. What then is real power? It is simply musical tone, divested of all adventitious qualities. When tone of this class is heard near, the effect is charming to the ear. When heard afar off, it seems to swell out and become magnificent and telling. Who that has heard a great player on a fine instrument, that has not been astonished at the immense quantity of tone which arises from this exceedingly fine quality. And it is in this way that even the small Amatis, built when great amount of tone was not wanted and would not have been appreciated, are still most delightful as solo instruments. Its purity and fine quality carry it to a much greater distance and produce a greater effect, than would arise from larger instruments of less careful build and euphonic qualities. Herein is discovered the difference between violins of the three great masters named and others of the same name. If a small Nicholas Amati be compared with a large model, it will be found that the quality is similar, but the quantity is greater, and therefore the instrument becomes more valuable. Again, in a Stradiuarius or Joseph Guarnerius of the best period, which are of the flat model and most accurate build, we find a pure ringing and deliciously rich quality, without roughness or coarseness, that finds its way through everything to a great distance, even in a crowded concert room. The differences in the three great makers seems to be now decided to consist in fullness of tone and quantity of power. The Amatis are essentially sweet and vocal. The Stradiuarius--of similar quality, greatly increased in body and of a more ringing bell-like character. The Guarnerius of the best model is even still more powerful. But they all possess that essential purity and richness of tone without which there is no real excellence. On this head we find, therefore, that power, providing it be accompanied by the other essentials of sweetness and purity, confers on violins the greatest value. A Nicholas Amati of the grand pattern--a Stradiuarius of the large flat model, or a Guarnerius of similar characteristics--all of which have been built with the greatest care and attention to the resonant qualities of the wood, and possess all these essentials--are therefore the instruments that have and will always command the greatest admiration. The next essential point in a good instrument we have to consider is sweetness. This combines characteristics which are not essential to power. A violin may possess the latter without the former. The tone may be of a quality which will tell and carry, but not of that soft delicious voice like nature which we call sweetness. The most admirable instruments of this characteristic have been variously compared to a flute or to the female voice. The latter is the best comparison. For the brightest examples of this quality alone we must look to the small violins of Antonius and Hieronymus, and also of Nicholas Amati. They are of the most delicious quality, and for solo instruments cannot be excelled. They respond with the most charming effect to the most touching and passionate expression. A great player can really sing on these with such a delightful effect as almost to compensate for the want of speech. The third point is purity of tone. We may be said to have touched upon this already in treating of the other two. But it is necessary to allude to this also, because it is possible to have purity of tone without sweetness or power. There are many instruments which from age and use have lost all harshness or roughness of tone, but are still of a thin piercing quality. These may be said to be pure in tone, but not possessing the other requisites they fail in commanding attention. What we have to look for in a violin is that roundness and fullness of quality which are combined in the term sweetness. Tone cannot be said to be sweet which is thin or piercing. It lacks one essential characteristic. It is on this account that in the present day many of the Steiner instruments have lost favour. There are a few which possess both sweetness and purity, and they rank with the small Amatis. But the best of them are wanting in power. This characteristic is only heard in perfection in the Stradiuarius or the Guarnerius of Cremona, and the great Brescian makers Gaspar di Salo and Magini. An amateur should look therefore in purchasing an instrument whether it possesses these three characteristics or any or which of them. We have now shown what are the essentials of a fine instrument, but as the genuine productions of these great masters are mostly in the hands of rich amateurs it is scarcely possible to become the happy possessor of one of the perfect instruments. What then shall we do? The reply is simple. Study the characteristics we have described, and you will find in some of the pupils of the Amati, Stradiuarius, or Guarnerius a near approach to this excellence. In fact it is well known that in the scarcity of originals fine examples by the pupils have frequently been sold as the work of the masters themselves. The Dictionary we have compiled will tell the amateur what names will most probably supply the qualities he desires. Care and attention will do the rest. ON THE PRODUCTION OF GOOD TONE IN VIOLINS. In the preceding chapter we have endeavoured to solve the question what are the qualities that constitute good tone. We now propose to inquire how good tone is provided for in the construction of the violin. We are not about to enter into the scientific question. We wish merely to give to the general amateur a knowledge which is often only acquired after years of patient study and trial of instruments, by certain general principles which will seldom or never be found to be incorrect in fact, and then only through instruments being built on false rules in other respects. In good instruments these rules may be said to be infallible. It is a curious fact that Gaspar di Salo and Magini, both early makers, started with the principle which has since been brought to the greatest perfection by the Cremona makers, and built on the flat model. Their instruments are consequently found to possess much of the fine and powerful tone which distinguishes Stradiuarius and Guarnerius. The early Amatis, in the second place, built on a higher model, and their instruments possess a sweet but not powerful tone. Steiner, thirdly, built on a higher model still, and his instruments have a thin piercing tone. We can only draw one conclusion from these facts--namely, that the nearer we approach an entire flat in the model of a violin the fuller, rounder, and more powerful the tone; other points of careful work and good varnish being taken into consideration. This fact has strongly impressed itself on the minds of scientific inquirers, and the result has been, as tests of the principle, the production of flat violins. These have been tried and reported satisfactory in the matter of tone. But there are other points to provide for which a flat box does not allow. To gain the requisite mass of air to produce good tone a flat violin has to be made of a clumsy awkward shape. In the beautiful modelled violin this is provided for in the rise of the back and belly. The ribs may therefore be more or less shallow according to the height of the model, and yet provide a sufficient space for the necessary amount of air for the production of good tone. We arrive then at this one certain fact, that the flatter the model of a violin the greater the probability of a good fine tone. It is of such violins therefore that we find the great performers possess themselves. This may be said to be an infallible rule, and an examination of the instruments of the most celebrated makers fully confirms it. Why therefore did the elder Amati, contemporary and probably pupil of Gaspar di Salo, change the model and size of the instrument? This inquiry brings us to the second rule for the amateur. There cannot be a doubt that he adopted this plan because the flat model produced a more powerful tone than was then required. He therefore, no doubt acquainted practically, if not theoretically, with the principles of acoustics, raised his model and decreased his size to provide for the production of that eminently sweet tone which characterises his instruments. The amateur therefore who desires tone of this description, but does not want power, will generally find it in the model of medium height, providing as in all other cases, the work and the wood are good. Of this model are some of the sweetest toned violins to be found, of which the Amatis are the type. Finally, many instruments are to be found constructed on Steiner's plan with very elevated model flat on the centre, and falling off abruptly towards the sides. These are all contrary to acoustic principles, and their thin piercing tone is to be ascribed to the want of that harmonious communication of vibration which their peculiar construction inevitably indicates. Let, therefore, the amateur who wishes to be his own purveyor, examine, with these principles impressed on his mind, whatever instruments he can gain access to and the result will be that he will seldom err in this matter. After this he must study the characteristics of good wood, careful finish, and fine varnish. A knowledge of these is best acquired by examining the instruments of the great masters. To go fully into these also is not necessary here, having already commented on them under their respective heads. One remark is, however, necessary here. Many people foolishly imagine that _any_ violin may be made to produce as sweet sounds in the hands of a skilful player as a high class instrument. This is a great mistake, and a convincing proof of its fallacy may be drawn from the fact that all the great soloists play upon high class violins. They do this moreover at a time when they would gladly save the expense were it possible. A few instances may interest the reader. GREAT PLAYERS AND THEIR INSTRUMENTS. Joachim plays upon a Stradiuarius, Vieuxtemps on a Guarnerius, Ole Bull on a Guarnerius and an Amati, De Beriot on a Magini, (of which he had two very splendid examples, the second being now in the possession of the author,) Carrodus a Guarnerius, and many other living instances. Piatti a Ruggerius violoncello, Servais a Stradiuarius violoncello. Past examples may be cited in Paganini, who played upon a Guarnerius, Mori a Guarnerius, and Spagnoletti the same. Ernst used a Stradiuarius. Dragonetti played on a Gaspar di Salo and a Stradiuarius double bass. GENERAL NOTES. In the last article, we have given some general rules for judging of the probable tone of an instrument from its model. A few further remarks on this and other important topics will well supplement what we have said. 1.--Accurate judgment in violins can only be obtained by long experience and seeing many instruments, and if possible those of a high class. There are many little points which to a casual or careless observer are invisible, but which a practised connoisseur detects immediately, and thereby is enabled to declare the maker. A difficulty will often present itself to a tyro in the knowledge of violins, from the family likeness which it is possible to trace, for example, between Amati, Stradiuarius and Bergonzi. These have a general resemblance which indicates the coming from one school. This applies also in many other cases--but every master has some distinct difference which is perceptible to the practised eye. The faces of a flock of sheep are to a stranger all alike; to the shepherd, each has its personal individuality. It is the same with violins, which can be read by the practised student as easily as we know each other by the countenance. 2.--It is erroneous to imagine that Cremonese instruments can be successfully imitated, a very popular story about Paganini's Guarnerius to the contrary notwithstanding, as the lawyers say. An attempt to impose an imitation on a practised judge is always productive of an unpleasant result. To fall from the sublime to the ridiculous is especially awkward, and results in becoming very particularly ridiculous yourself. This _must_ be whenever a modern maker attempts to make an ancient violin. There are practical difficulties impossible now to get over--such as the varnish. The secret of making the grand old varnish is lost, and therefore whatever is put on by a modern tells the tale and cries aloud to the judge--This is a cheat! 3.--It is easier to imitate an old painting than an old violin, though that is difficult enough to a good judge, but such an insuperable obstacle as the old amber varnish does not puzzle the picture forger. 4.--In choosing an instrument it is better to select one of a flat model, the sides of medium height, well proportioned and with good oil varnish. 5.--We are inclined to think that all the great instruments of the great makers are well known, and that there are none lying by unknown to fame. 6.--Most of the more celebrated instruments are given a name of distinction, such as the Yellow Stradiuarius, the Blood Red Knight Guarnerius, the Ole Bull Guarnerius, the De Beriot Magini, the Emmeliani Stradiuarius, the General Kidd Stradiuarius Violoncello, the Servais Stradiuarius Violoncello, and others. These can be recognised like the human face. 7.--The reason why Italian instruments are so superior to all others must be ascribed to their exquisite make, the careful adjustment of the various thicknesses of wood and the varnish, the secret of which appears gone for ever. Perhaps another reason may be named in the wood being so ripe and dry as to permit free vibration. 8.--The Cremonese obtained their colour in oil. The moderns get it only in spirit, which imparts a hardness to the tone. Compare a Cremona with the German and other imitations. Can't you hear how perceptible the difference? The former is mellow and rich--the latter flinty and harsh. This arises no doubt from the varnish. 9.--The Cremonese violoncellos were mostly made deeper by half an inch at the bottom than at the upper part. Guiseppe fil Andreæ, Guarnerius, Stradiuarius, Landulphus, and others observed this rule. The tone is said to be greatly improved by it. 10.--Some persons think it is very difficult to obtain an Italian violin at a moderate price. It is not so. There are many whose makers are not known, and also third class instruments of good qualities, which can be obtained from £10 to £25. It is better to purchase one of these than a baked copy or a new violin. Then again amateurs may resort to the old French makers, some old English and the Tyrolean, which may be had cheaper still. 11.--A respectable dealer who is known to be a connoisseur of experience, will never sell you a modern copy for an old Italian violin with a long story of how he got it in some wonderful way. His character is at stake. Beware of ignorance which assumes the mask of knowledge, or of designing roguery which apes the appearance of innocence. 12.--The present excellence of the old instruments arises from their having been made thick in wood, which time has ameliorated and mellowed, and now permits free vibration. It is much to be deplored that many instruments have not been suffered to remain as the makers left them, and that others under a false notion of giving an old tone have been made too thin. 13.--Had Magini, Gaspar di Salo, and other very old makers used as little wood as some of their successors, where would their instruments have been now? We are at the present time reaping the benefit of their foresight. 14.--There is evident proof of the deep interest the high class makers took in endeavouring to advance the interests of their art. For example, Stradiuarius sometimes put the widest grained wood on the fourth string side, feeling it was the weakest and needed the open grain. Sometimes he put it on the first string side. He was evidently trying experiments. But he mostly adopted the former plan, no doubt correctly. Again, they made instruments larger at the bottom than at the upper part, gradually reducing in size and depth, an experiment which observation has since found to be correct. They also made instruments thicker under the bridge to enable them to bear the great tension to which they are subject, and many other points showing how perfect they became. They left little for modern ingenuity to discover. 15.--Old instruments of character should be greatly prized and carefully preserved, for it seems probable that there will be no others to take their places, from many well known causes. 16.--Makers of the present time have perverted their talents to discover a means of producing the qualities of old instruments in new ones, an achievement utterly impossible, as their efforts show. Many make instruments with the greatest care, copying the plans of the old masters--but instead of allowing Father Time to ripen them, they use an acid to dry up the wood, or bake them. These are known by a peculiar smell which tells the tale, and they get worse instead of better. Again, they deem it wise to get a colour at any price, which can only be done in our day by the use of spirit varnish. Did they use oil varnish, our successors would at all events reap the benefit, if not ourselves. The great masters were willing to wait for fame and tried none of these dodges. Others again put the varnish on and rub it off in places to resemble the wear of age. Much better would it be to cover the instrument with varnish and leave age to do the rest. Such schemes are futile and reflect discredit on those who adopt them. 17.--The peg holes seen in old Italian violoncellos in the middle of the back are where a peg was put to fasten the instrument round the neck while playing in the Catholic Churches. 18.--Stradiuarius in his early career frequently cut his wood to form what are called slab backs, (explained elsewhere,) and sometimes used pear tree for violoncellos. REPAIRS OF INSTRUMENTS. We cannot part with the reader who has thus far accompanied us in our labours, without making a few remarks on the important subject of repairs. So many fine instruments have been ruined and the beauty of so many more tarnished by the mal-addresse and ignorance of some so-called restorers and repairers, that we think we shall be serving the admirers of the violin by warning them against entrusting valuable instruments to incompetent hands. A few notes will serve to illustrate the chief subjects for care and some important items in fitting instruments properly. 1.--So-called repairs have been frequently so clumsily done, as to damage old and valuable instruments to an extent impossible to remedy. 2.--There are many instances where wood has been taken out of the instrument under the idea of improving the tone. This is a fatal error, and when the mischief is discovered it is replaced by new wood. Others have done the same under another erroneous impression, that it will give strength to the instrument to enable it to bear the increased pressure caused by the higher pitch used at the present time. Whatever the notion, the result is always bad. The grain of the new wood does not come level with the old, and causes a sudden check to the vibration. The glue also lying between the old and the new wood deadens the sound. Some repairers have been guilty of this practice to a great extent, and many fine instruments have been thus damaged. Let no one under any plea tamper with the thicknesses of wood in a good violin. 3.--The sound bar used by the old masters (as we have before stated) and others of that period, was much shorter than is now used, and consequently all have been changed. The present bar is quite sufficient to bear the increased pressure required in our time, without resorting to any other means. If an alteration be required an experienced repairer only can know the kind of bar required. 4.--The necks of the old instruments were short; they have therefore to be lengthened if found in their old state. A good repairer will splice a neck in so as to be scarcely perceptible. Much of the ease and comfort of playing depends how this is done. 5.--The sound post is a very important item in fitting an instrument. There is a marvellous power in this simple contrivance. It should fit as though it were part of the back and belly. An instrument can be frequently cured of a bad description of tone by the slightest move of the post. Those subject to what are termed wolfy notes can be remedied or the bad notes shifted to less important ones. It is a mistake to suppose there is a particular place for the sound post in all instruments alike. It depends upon the model of the instrument to a great extent. High models require the post nearer the foot of the bridge than flat models. Others require the post thick or thin. The regulating of the post should only be entrusted to the skilled hand, and we would impress upon amateurs that it is better never to shift the post themselves. Many instruments have had the sound holes spoiled and the surface of the wood inside gored by unskilful tampering with the post. 6.--The bridge is another very important agent in regulating an instrument. No general rule will serve for this matter. Some instruments require the bridge thick, others thin. Some a close grain and others the contrary. The bridge should be fitted as accurately as the post, and as though it grew from the belly, the feet touching equally all round. 7.--Tail pieces are better quite free from ornaments, which frequently cause the instrument to jar disagreeably. 8.--The strings are of great importance. They should be adjusted to be in perfect fifths. This is essential, otherwise it is impossible to play double notes correctly in tune. It may be done with a little trouble. When the instrument is in tune on the open notes, place the finger across the strings, for example, at B on the second string, and F on the first string. If the fifth is imperfect, tune one string a shade higher, and try again. If then perfect it requires a smaller string. If not, tune a shade lower than the perfect open fifth, if then right when tried as before, it requires a thicker string.[1] [1] We have seen a little instrument advertised to accomplish this important matter without trouble. THE PERFECT FIFTH'S GAUGE.--"This useful gauge is marked with such precision as to render all strings gauged by it in accordance with each other producing perfect fifths, enabling the performer to execute passages of double notes with the greatest facility and correctness, at the same time effecting a considerable saving of time and expense by entirely superseding the old method of obtaining fifths by changing the strings." It is manufactured and sold by Mr. John Hart, 14, Prince's-street, Leicester-square, London. ADDENDA. LARCHE, ---- Brussels, 1847. Copyist of old makers. One of those who endeavoured to produce an old tone by the use of acid, and consequently spoiled the wood. ALBANESI, ---- Cremona, 1737. Similar to Testore of Milan, but broad pattern. His instruments have a large tone, but poor varnish. GOBIT, ---- Venice, 1716. Made similar instruments to Ruggerius, and used beautiful varnish. GABRIELLI, ---- Florence, 1740. Made excellent Violoncellos, yellow varnish. Written labels. ANTONIAZZI, GAETANO, Cremona, 1860. This maker sent a violin to the Exhibition of 1862, but is much behind his predecessors. FALCO, ---- Cremona, 1752. Made well proportioned instruments. HARRIS, CHARLES, London. An admirable workman. His instruments are among the finest of the English. GAGLIANO, NICHOLAS, Naples, pupil of Stradiuarius. We have a note (omitted in its proper place) that this maker excelled in violoncellos, many of which are covered with fine rich varnish, seldom seen on instruments by the Gagliano family. * * * * * In our notice of Stradiuarius Violins at page 113 we should have said that William Howard, Esq., of Sheffield, possessed _two_ fine examples--one as described and the other of the beautiful red varnish, the latter formerly the property of the celebrated violinist Salomon, for whom Haydn wrote his twelve grand symphonies. PEARCE, PRINTER, SHEFFIELD. 
32556	----	DOROTHY'S TOUR BY EVELYN RAYMOND NEW YORK HURST & CO., INC. PUBLISHERS THE DOROTHY BOOKS By EVELYN RAYMOND These stories of an American girl by an American author have made "Dorothy" a household synonym for all that is fascinating. Truth and realism are stamped on every page. The interest never flags, and is ofttimes intense. No more happy choice can be made for gift books, so sure are they to win approval and please not only the young in years, but also "grown-ups" who are young in heart and spirit. Dorothy Dorothy at Skyrie Dorothy's Schooling Dorothy's Travels Dorothy's House Party Dorothy in California Dorothy on a Ranch Dorothy's House Boat Dorothy at Oak Knowe Dorothy's Triumph Dorothy's Tour _Illustrated, 12mo, Cloth Price per Volume, 50 Cents_ COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY THE PLATT & PECK CO. CONTENTS CHAPTER. PAGE. I. AT BELLEVIEU 9 II. ALFARETTA'S LETTER 18 III. THE PREPARATIONS 28 IV. IN NEW YORK 40 V. THE CARNEGIE CONCERT 52 VI. THE OPERA 65 VII. AN EPISODE 82 VIII. "AMERICA" 95 IX. A DREAD CALL IN THE NIGHT 106 X. THE LOCKET 118 XI. THE TOUR BEGINS 129 XII. IN WASHINGTON 150 XIII. SIGHT-SEEING 166 XIV. HIGH HONOR 187 XV. MT. VERNON 203 XVI. THE LAKE CITY 214 XVII. THE ACCIDENT 230 XVIII. CONCLUSION 245 DOROTHY'S TOUR CHAPTER I. AT BELLEVIEU. "Dorothy!" called Jim as he quickly searched the garden at Bellevieu for her. "Yes," answered Dorothy, "I am here sitting under the big oak tree." "I have something for you," cried Jim. "Guess what?" "Guess what?" echoed Dorothy. "Well it might be--Oh! there are so many, many things it could be." "Here, take it. Its only a letter from New York, and never mind what might be in it, read it--" said Jim, who was altogether too practical and never cared to imagine or suppose anything. All he wanted was real facts and true and useful facts at that, which is not a bad trait in a youth's character. Dorothy broke the seal carefully and read the letter through once and then started to read it all over again, exclaiming every once in a while to herself, "Oh, oh, dear. I am so glad!" and finally, "I must tell Aunt Betty at once." Jim, who had been standing there forgotten all this time, broke in: "Oh, I say, Dolly Doodles, can you tell me what this message is that so excites you that you have clear forgotten me?" "Oh, Jim dear," said Dorothy, "it's too wonderful. Just think, I am to start in two weeks for New York, where Mr. Ludlow will meet Aunt Betty and I." By this time Jim and Dorothy were walking rapidly toward the house, where at once they sought Aunt Betty to tell her the news, only to find that Mrs. Calvert had gone visiting. Seeing Old Ephraim in the hall, Dorothy ran up to him and said: "Ephraim, do tell us where Aunt Betty has gone." "Ah certainly does know, Misses," answered old Ephraim. "She o'de'd Metty" (whom we remember as Methuselah Bonapart Washington from the previous books, Dorothy's Triumph, House Boat and Oak Knowe, and other volumes wherein our little heroine's story is told). "Metty, he 'lowed he take her see dat lil lady. De man what gibs de music lessons' wife." "Oh, I know now, Ephy," said Dorothy, "Aunty went to see Frau Deichenberg. Well, Jim, we shall have to wait till Aunt Betty comes back to tell her our wonderful news. But dear me, what a forgetful girl I am. I haven't told you all yet. Well, Jim, it's a long story, so let's go back to the garden and I will tell you all there." So back to the old oak tree with the rustic seat beneath it they went. The garden in Bellevieu looked its loveliest. It was early in September and all the fall flowers with their wondrous hues made the garden a regular fairy land. And Lem, the little boy the campers had found on a memorable night, had been true to his word and had tended the garden faithfully. You will remember how Lem Haley had cried out at night and when found and protected by the little camping party had ridden back to Bellevieu in the huge automobile. He, like all who knew Aunt Betty, Mrs. Cecil Somerset Calvert, had grown to love her and now tried hard to please her by keeping the garden at old Bellevieu a feast for the eyes and a delight to all who came there. Dorothy and Jim seated themselves beneath the tree and Dorothy started out by saying: "Oh, Jim, dear, I really am dreadfully nervous every time I think of starting out on that long trip through the United States and Canada, as Mr. Ludlow says I must. You see this letter says that Mr. Ludlow will expect Aunt Betty and I to be at the Pennsylvania station on September 27. That's, let's see----. Oh, Jim, what day does the 27th of September fall on?" Dorothy at this period was a winsome girl indeed. She had good looks, which is always a worthy asset, then her artistic temperament and perhaps her musical training had combined with other natural attributes in the building of a character charmingly responsive. She had been frequently complimented for her musical talent, but bore her honor simply and unaffectedly. As a protege of Mrs. Calvert, Jim had grown to be a fellow of manly aspect, and while in no way related to her, filled in some degree the place of a son in her heart and was a brother to every one else in the household. Jim, who had been calculating the same while Dorothy was talking, quickly responded, "Tuesday." "Oh, dear, I might have known that myself if I had only read on a ways instead of stopping just in the wrong place. Mr. Ludlow said that he would like me to play at a concert or two in New York before I start traveling for good. Oh, I must play at a concert on Thursday, the 29th. That is why he wants me to be in New York on Tuesday so I can have one day to rest in. Dear, thoughtful man to think of giving me a rest after my trip. Oh, Jim, if you could only come to New York with us!" "I can," said Jim. "In fact I was going to keep that as a surprise, but I have saved enough money this summer to go to New York and be near you and with Aunt Betty when you play for the first time under this new contract." "Jim," Dorothy said, "you are just as thoughtful and kind as you can be and it will be so nice to have you with Aunt Betty, and I shall play all the better for knowing that out in the big, big audience there are you two whom I really care to please more than anyone else in the wide, wide world. Jim, every one is so good to me and so kind in all things. Oh, dear, oh, dear; do you really suppose that I will be a very great violinist?" "Why Dorothy Calvert!" Jim reproached. "You funny girl. You are a great violinist already, and in time you will be a very, very great violinist perhaps--who knows but what you might be the most famous violinist in the world? Why, Herr Deichenberg thinks you are doing very wonderfully now, and you will practice just the same even if you are going on a concert tour. In fact you will have to practice harder----" "Oh, Jim, I must do my very best all the time and you can trust me to do that. But, come, let's go inside now. It's getting dark and Aunt Betty will soon be back." But the boy did not move, and finally said: "You stay here and finish telling me your plans and then we will go in." So Dorothy reseated herself and told Jim how Mr. Ludlow would tell her when she got to New York her future plans and that now all that he had written was for her to get ready for her trip, and on Tuesday, the 27th of September, for her and her Aunt Betty to be in New York. "To think, Jim," said Dorothy, "that my one ambition in life has commenced to be realized. I have always longed for this day to come when I could really play to people, and now to be in a company with so many other artists and to tour all over. There are so many, many people who can play the violin better than I can, and for me to be chosen!" "Dorothy, girl, it was because you worked so very, very hard, and as Herr Deichenberg, you know says, 'You have, mine girl, accomplished the impossible,' and now we are all so proud of you," Jim gladly responded. "I tried so hard and all for dear, darling Aunt Betty, and she has been so good to me and to you and to everybody, no wonder everyone loves her," added Dorothy. "Jim, I am worried about Aunt Betty. You know how she lost so much money last year in those old investments that foolish lawyer made for her. Well, she has always done so much for me that I am going to show her that I can take care of myself, and her too. Just think, $200 a week and all my expenses paid. And a private car for the party, Aunt Betty, and an attendant. I just couldn't go and leave aunty, so they managed to let me take her with me. Do you think, Jim, that traveling will hurt Aunt Betty?" "Hurt her? Indeed I do not," the boy said gravely, for he was thinking that Aunt Betty was no longer young and that she had been worried and tired most all summer, for she had insisted on staying near Dorothy who couldn't leave Baltimore because of her lessons and preparations for the fall, as Herr Deichenberg was working hard over his little protege so as to have a great success come of the tour. "You know, Dorothy, the change will be good for her," Jim volunteered. "And Aunt Betty enjoys nothing more than travel. She will enjoy the music, too, and most of all the very one thing that will give her most pleasure is the fact that she will be with you and near you to keep you from all kinds of harm and such things as are apt to go with such a trip. But, Dorothy, dear girlie, don't think I mean that anything is going to hurt you or harm you in any way, but you see I mean Aunt Betty will be with you and it's not many a girl who has an Aunt Betty like yours." "Jim, what a long, long speech for you. Let's go inside," said Dorothy. The two slowly walked around the garden, exclaiming at its beauty, till they reached the house. Dorothy led Jim into the music room, pushed him playfully into a chair, and taking her violin in her hand, said, "Listen." Jim sat there listening to what he thought was the most wonderful music in all the world. Piece after piece the girl played, bringing out with clear, vibrating tones, the tunes she loved best, her body swaying to the music's rhythm. "Surely," thought Jim, "if the audiences do not care for Dorothy's playing, and how they can help that I cannot see, they will immediately fall and worship at her personal charm and beauty," of which, thanks to Aunt Betty and the good Mother Martha's training, Dorothy was wholly unconscious. How long they stayed there, neither of them could have told. And Aunt Betty, who had entered quite unseen, remained till old Ephraim said from the doorway, "Ah most surely wanted to excuse myself, but ah has been dere standing for most a hour and more than likely the dinner is spoilt, cause ah simply couldn't interrup' dat beautiful music." Dorothy carefully put away her violin and ran to Aunt Betty telling her she had some brand new news. "Let it wait, Dorothy," said Aunt Betty, "till we are all at the dinner table. Come, Jim," and then they all went to the table, Jim saying as he did that music sure did give him an appetite, and that that must be the reason they had music at so many of the New York hotels at meal time, or, as Dorothy corrected him, at dinner. CHAPTER II. ALFARETTA'S LETTER. "Alfa, Alfy," called Ma Babcock. "Come 'ere quick, there's something 'ere fer ye." "Ma, where are you," yelled Alfy from the barnyard. "'Ere in the kitchen," answered Ma Babcock. "All right," said Alfy. "Dunno as I know what you want," she continued to herself. "What is it, ma?" "'Ere's a letter fer ye," Ma Babcock rejoined. "Must be from Dorothy. Can't think of anyone else writing me, can you? I'll open it and see. "Oh, ma! Listen, listen! Dear Dorothy wants me right away. Oh, how can I get to her; you couldn't get on without me, now. Oh, dear, oh dear," wailed Alfy, most in tears. "Alfaretta Babcock, come to your senses. A big girl like you, crying," scolded Ma Babcock. "Tell me what Dorothy says in her letter." Alfaretta, reading-- "Dear, dear Alfy-- "In two weeks I start on my concert tour, and as I had not expected to go for more than a month at least, I want you to come and stay with me and I've got such a good proposition to make you. I will be very busy and will need you to help me get my clothes and things together. Oh, Alfy, dear, please, please come. Don't you disappoint me. I just must see you again. It's been such an awful long time since you have stayed with me. Tell Ma Babcock she simply must let you come. Metty will meet you at the station. Take the noon train. Give my love to all the little Babcocks and to ma. Tell ma, Baretta and Claretta can help her while you are away, and I am sure that Matthew will help too. Oh, Alfy, do, do come. With love, "Ever your affectionate, "DOROTHY. "There, ma, that's what she says." "Well, well, things do come sudden always. I must get my things on and drive down and tell 'em all at Liza Jane's Thread and Needle Store to start the news a-spreadin'." "Then I may go?" "Matthew, hitch up Barnabas, quick now," responded Mrs. Babcock, by way of response. "You, Alfy, go inside in the front room and get your clothes out so we can see what's clean and what ain't." "Ma! Then I can go! Oh, goody, goody! I am so glad. And I can start to-morrow--yes? Oh please say yes!" coaxed Alfy. Inside in the front room, Alfy working quickly, sorted things out and before Ma Babcock got back with a new pair of shoes for her, she had most of her things mended (as she was real handy with the needle), and nearly all packed in the old suit case Pa Babcock brought home with him from Chicago. "Alfy!" called ma from the kitchen. "Try on these shoes and see as they're all right." "Yes, ma," answered Alfy, coming into the kitchen with thread and needle in one hand and shirt-waist in the other. "What shall I do with these? I can't take those shoes with these in my hand." "Go back and take those things in and put them on the bed," said ma, getting vexed at Alfy's excitement and trying to calm her down. Alfy, after laying the things down, came back and took the shoes and some new ribbons ma had brought her from Liza Jane's and went back to the front room. "My, but these shoes are real smart. I think that they are and hope Dorothy will. And shucks, no one has such pretty ribbons. Black, that's kind of old and dull looking. I like the red much the best. The blue ones are real pretty, too. And my, but those red ribbons are pretty." And thus Alfy talked to herself as she fussed around and tried to remember all the little things she wanted. "Ma, ma," and Alfy ran in the kitchen calling louder as she went: "Where did you put my raincoat? You know I haven't used that one--the good one--since I was to California with Dorothy." "Well, let me see. Reckon I did see you have it. So long ago I can't just remember. Must a been last year some time. Oh, did you look in the closet in the barn? Upstairs in the room I had fixed for the boys to sleep in, but they got scared and wouldn't. You remember I put all the things we didn't use much up there." "I'll look. Maybe it's up there," and Alfy went out still talking to herself, while ma went all over the house, in all the closets, looking for that raincoat. It was a very fine raincoat, one just like Dorothy's, only Alfaretta's was red while Dorothy's was gray. Mrs. Calvert had bought one for each of the girls in San Francisco. Alfy had put hers away when she reached home, hoping to be able to use it some time again, thinking it was too good for use "up mounting." Alfy was now in the barn and had just reached the closed door when she heard a curious "tap-tap." Alfy was not afraid. She never had been what the boys call a "scare-cat," but it seemed kind of funny, so she stood still and listened. "Tap-tap." "My," thought Alfy. "What's that? Oh, it's----" "Tap-tap," again and this time the sound came from right over Alfaretta's head, making her start and her heart go thump, thump so loud she thought whoever it was tapping could hear it. She tried to move, but stood rooted to the spot. "Tap-tap." This time to the right of the girl. Then Alfy summoned her lost courage and said as calmly as she could, "Who's there?" No one responded, and in a few seconds, "Tap-tap," came the sound to the left of the girl. Then thoroughly scared, as the room was half dark and rapidly growing darker, Alfy turned and ran, stumbling over an old stool as she tried to make the door in great haste. Matthew heard her and came running up, saying: "What's the matter, sis?" He had been unhitching Barnabas, as Ma Babcock was through with him now. "Oh!" moaned Alfy. "It's some one in the closet. I heard them tap-tapping and got scared and ran. Gosh, my shin hurts! There!" giving the stool that had caused the disaster a vicious kick. "Maybe--oh, Alfy! Maybe----" chimed in Matthew. "Maybe its a ghost." "Ma! Ma!" screached Alfy. "Ma! Ma!" yelled Matthew. Both by this time were rapidly approaching the kitchen. "Well," said Ma Babcock, "You--land o' livin'--you look as though you'd seen a ghost." "Ma," murmured Alfy, "we didn't see him, I heard him. He's in the closet in the barn." And then both children started in to talk and explain at the same time so that ma couldn't understand a word. "Here, you--you Alfy, tell me all. You, Matthew, keep still," she exclaimed. Then Alfy told her how she heard the tapping on the door of the closet. "Come, we'll all go back and see," said Ma Babcock, and with that they all started for the barn, Alfy limping after ma and Matthew. When they reached the upstairs room they tip-toed to the closet and listened, and after waiting a few minutes and hearing nothing, ma called loudly, "Is anyone in there?" No answer came. Then she quickly flung open the closet door, and what did they hear but the flutter, flutter of wings, and then they saw, perched high on the lintel of the door, a little wood-pecker. "There," said Ma Babcock, "there is what made those tap-taps, a wood-pecker. Just as if I didn't know there couldn't be any ghosts. And a great big girl like you, Alfaretta, being scared of a little bird." With that they all breathed a sigh of relief, and Matthew and ma went down out of the barn, leaving Alfaretta to look over the contents of the well packed closet, to find, if possible, her raincoat. "My, my, just think what a lot I shall have to tell Dorothy. I wonder what she will say. Just a bird. Shucks. I thought it was a real ghost. But ma says there are no really real ghosts. But, well, I don't know." All this time Alfy had been opening boxes and shutting them, putting them back where she had found them, when suddenly she came across an old sampler about a foot square. Alfy looked at it, then brought it to the lamp and could see lots of new and hard stitches she had never learned. She didn't see how anyone could sew them at all. And, my--what was that in the corner? A name. "Well," thought Alfy, "here is a find. Maybe I can beg it off ma, and then I can take it to Dorothy." She had almost forgotten her raincoat, when she went back to the closet and looked in the box again to see if there was anything else new there, and then discovered her precious raincoat in the bottom of the big box. Hastily closing the box and shoving things back in the closet, with her raincoat and the queer old sampler, Alfy ran hurriedly downstairs and through the yard and into the kitchen. Ma Babcock had by this time prepared dinner and just as Alfy came in she called all the children to the dinner table. "Ma," exclaimed Alfy, "I found my raincoat, and this, too. What is it?" "Let me see." "Let me see." "And me," chimed in all the little Babcocks, trying to get possession of what Alfy was holding. "Be quiet," said ma, sternly. "Give it to me, Alfy." Alfy handed her the sampler and Ma Babcock exclaimed: "Poor Hannah! Poor Hannah!" "What Hannah? And was she very poor--poorer than we?" lisped little Luke, the youngest of the Babcocks. "Ma, who did you say?" demanded Alfaretta. "Why, Alfy, this is a sampler made by one of my little playmates years and years ago. A delicate little girl was Hannah Woodrow. She came up here summering, and then 'cause she was broken in health stayed all one year with me. She could sew so very well. She made that sampler and left it with me when the folks did take her back to Baltimore with them. She married--deary me--maybe she married some one named--Haley, I think. That's what it was; and I ain't heard from her since." "Ma, can I have the sampler?" asked Alfy. "I would like to take it to Baltimore to show Dorothy." "Well, I s'pose I must say yes, if you want to show it to Dorothy Calvert, and 'pears to me Mrs. Calvert might like to see it, too," remarked ma. "But come now, dinner is getting cold and you must get to bed early, Alfaretta, if you want to catch that early train for Baltimore, and like as not you've fooled your time away and haven't packed a single thing." But Alfy showed her mother she had been very busy and had all her things ready to start. So she went off gladly to bed, dreaming that all was ready and that she had departed for Dorothy, which, indeed, the next morning was a reality. CHAPTER III. THE PREPARATIONS. "You dear, dear Alfy," piped Dorothy, joyously as she ran to meet Alfy, whom Metty had just brought up from the station to the house. "Oh, Dorothy, I am so glad to see you," rejoined Alfy with none the less joy than Dorothy had displayed. "I just must kiss you again." "Did you have an uneventful trip?" asked Dorothy, drawing her friend into the house. "Just simply took train and arrived, that was all." "Metty, you see that Alfy's things are taken up to the blue room." Then turning to Alfaretta again, "Aunt Betty is upstairs in the sewing room. We shall go straight to her. I believe she is just longing to get a sight of you again, just as much as I was when I wrote you." "Oh, Mrs. Calvert, I am so glad to see you again--Aunt Betty," said Alfy, going over to Aunt Betty's chair and putting both arms around her and kissing her several times. "Why, Jim, I do declare. You here, too? Dorothy didn't say you were here in her letter." Alfy then went to the doorway where Jim was standing and gave him a hard hug. "Oh, it's just like the old times." Jim blushed a rosy red and said awkwardly, "I'm so glad to see you, Alfy. It's been more than a year since you have seen me, isn't it?" Jim decidedly disliked to be fussed over, and although he had known Alfy all his life just as he had Dorothy, he always felt confused and ill at ease when either of the girls kissed him or embraced him in any way. Now all the other boys, so Gerald often told him, would only be too glad to stand in his shoes. "Come, Alfy," said Dorothy, leading Alfaretta upstairs one more flight. "Here is your room. And see, here are all your things. Now hurry and clear up, and put your things where they belong. When you have finished, come down to the sewing room and we will talk as we work." "I'll be there in less than no time," called Alfy. Dorothy then went back to the sewing room and picked up her sewing. There she and Aunt Betty worked till Alfy put in an appearance. "See, I have my needles, thimble, thread and all, all in this little apron pocket. And this apron will save me lots of time, for when I'm through sewing all I have to do is take the apron off and shake the threads into the waste basket and not have to spend most half an hour picking threads off my dress," said practical Alfy. "Well, Alfy," said Mrs. Calvert, "that is surely a very good idea. What can I give you to sew? We must all be kept busy, and then Dorothy will tell you her plans. Maybe you could baste up the seams of this skirt," handing the skirt to Alfaretta, who immediately began to sew up the seams. Dorothy then unburdened herself of the good news and told Alfy how Mr. Ludlow, her manager, had written for her to be in New York on Tuesday, the 27th, and be ready to play at a concert on Thursday, and shortly after to start on her trip. Then, best of all, how besides a very liberal salary, she could have accompanying her, with all charges paid, her dear Aunt Betty and a companion. Would Alfy be the companion? Alfaretta was astonished and delighted, and her joy knew no bounds. She felt sure Ma Babcock would allow her to go. Such wonderful vistas of happiness the plan suggested, it was long before the subject was exhausted. Aunt Betty then told Alfaretta that she and Dorothy were making some simple little dresses for Dorothy's use while away. "But, Aunt Betty," asked Alfy, "what are you going to wear?" "Why, Alfy," replied Aunt Betty. "I have ordered a black serge suit for traveling, and some neat white waists. Then I am having Mrs. Lenox, Frau Deichenberg's dressmaker, make me a couple of fancy dresses, too, both of them black, but one trimmed more than the other." "And Alfy, Mrs. Lenox is making me a couple of dresses, too. One pink one for the very best, and one white one for the next best. These I shall have to wear at some of the concerts," added Dorothy. "I would like to know what these are that we are sewing on," demanded Alfy. "Why," answered Dorothy, "these are simple white dresses, the kind I have always worn, and most always shall." "Dorothy Calvert," remarked Alfy, very sternly, "they are as pretty as they can be, even if they are plain. They are very substantial and can be washed and worn many times without hurting the dress. You know very well fancy dresses are so hard to launder." "And, dear," said Aunt Betty, "you know, Dorothy, the people go to the concerts to hear you play, not to see what you wear and I have always liked my little girl best in just this kind of white dress. Now, dear, go down and practice awhile so as you will be able to play just the best you know how to when you go to Herr Deichenberg to take your lesson. For, Dorothy, you will not have many more lessons from Herr before you go away. And maybe if we finish up some of this sewing I will let Alfaretta go with you to Herr's for your lesson. Frau Deichenberg said that Herr was not feeling very well and had a bad cough, so that when I was there night before last she said, 'Maybe Miss Dorothy would not mind coming here for her lesson.' I told her you would come." With that Dorothy walked slowly from the room, very much worried about her dear Herr Deichenberg, as she knew he was getting old and was afraid his cough might develop into something worse. She reached the music room and practiced faithfully for more than an hour. When she had put the violin away and was about to leave the music room, some one called her. She turned and saw Jim on the veranda outside the window, and crossing the room and lifting up the French sash she said, "What is it, Jim?" "I just wanted to tell you something," the boy answered. "While you were practicing, Gerald Banks came up here in his automobile. He wanted to see you. I told him he couldn't as you were very busy practicing." Dorothy liked to have Jim assume authority over her in this manner, and questioned gayly: "Well, Father Jim, what did he want?" "He just wanted to take you autoing in the morning," Jim replied, "so I went upstairs to Aunt Betty and told her." "Dear, thoughtful Jim," interrupted Dorothy. "What did Aunt Betty have to say?" "Aunt Betty said," replied Jim, "that he could come around about ten o'clock to-morrow morning and take you and Alfy to Herr Deichenberg's when you could take your lesson. Then--well, I guess I won't tell you. I will let you be surprised. You wait and see!" "Oh, Jim! Please, please tell me? I must know now, really I must. Please, please," begged Dorothy. "I shan't tell," remarked Jim, slowly walking away from her. "Jim! Jim!" called Dorothy, running after him. "Dear Jim, please, please tell me." "Girls certainly are curious creatures," soliloquized Jim, as Dorothy had turned on her heel and was walking quickly toward the door, saying to herself, but loud enough for Jim to hear, "Well, Aunt Betty will tell me, I'm sure." "Aunt Betty. Oh, Aunt Betty!" called Dorothy as she burst into the sewing room where Aunt Betty and Alfy were still sewing. "Jim says--oh, I mean, you must tell me what the surprise is for to-morrow. He said Gerald would take me to Herr Deichenberg's for my lesson in the morning and then he wouldn't tell me any more." "Well, can't my little girl wait till then and see what more, for herself? That's much better than having some one tell you," remonstrated Aunt Betty. "I'll tell you, Dorothy," said Alfy. "You will?" interrupted Dorothy, "you dear." "Don't interrupt me, Dorothy. I was going to say--what was I going to say?" said Alfy. "I know. I said I'd tell you--well, I meant to say I would tell you that a surprise isn't a surprise if you know beforehand." "I thought you were going to tell me," remarked Dorothy, "but you didn't even intend to." "I guess my little girl will have to wait," severely murmured Aunt Betty, kissing Dorothy, who by this time was standing very near her aunt's chair. "Well," said Dorothy, "I guess I shall have to." So she sat down and took up her sewing again. All three carefully sewed in silence for some time till Aunt Betty said: "Dorothy, girl, I think you could try on this dress, now." "Certainly," replied Dorothy. "I am sure I ought to be quite willing." Aunt Betty and Alfy fitted the dress carefully, altering the seams in the shoulders and cutting out the neck some. Before they had stopped sewing they had nearly finished this dress and had two others well under way. Putting away their sewing carefully so as they could start again early in the morning, they all went to their rooms to dress for dinner. They had a quiet meal after which Dorothy played for them awhile, and then they all sang songs, each choosing the songs they liked best. Thus they spent a quiet but most enjoyable evening. They retired early as Alfy was quite tired after her long journey and wanted to get a good night's sleep. They had an early breakfast of pancakes and maple syrup of which Alfy was very fond, and soon after, the three were busy again in the sewing room. There they stayed, quietly working and talking, Alfy telling of the little Babcocks, till it was time for the girls to get ready for the automobile ride. Dorothy had apparently forgotten all about the surprise for she never even mentioned it at all. "Alfy," said Dorothy, when they were most ready, "when we get to Herr Deichenberg's you must be very quiet as I take my lesson and not say anything at all. You know Herr does not like to be disturbed while he gives a lesson. You will find many curious things to look at, and if you want to ask about any of them, you just remember what you want to ask about and tell me after." Alfy promised, and in a few minutes the girls heard Gerald toot his automobile horn. Quickly they ran, waving good-bye and throwing kisses to Aunt Betty, who was looking out of the second story window. With Jim seated beside Gerald, they started. Dorothy told Gerald the direction to take and after a very short time they drew up at Herr Deichenberg's little cottage. The girls descended and bade Jim and Gerald good-bye. "Oh, Dorothy," Gerald called back, "when shall I return for you?" Dorothy, greatly surprised, questioned, "You are coming back, Gerald?" "Surely." "Oh, goody, goody. Be here at twelve o'clock. That will bring us back home in time for lunch at one o'clock." Alfy, who thought the previous ride had been to short altogether, exclaimed "Oh, I'm so, so, so glad. We can have another ride. Oh, Dorothy, I do just love automobiling, I really do." Frau Deichenberg came to the door just then and ushered the two girls into the cozy living-room where they laid aside their wraps. "Herr is in the studio," murmured Frau. "He is awaiting you there, Miss Dorothy." "I'll go right up," answered Dorothy. "Now Frau Deichenberg, do not bother with Alfy at all. She can amuse herself till I finish." With that Dorothy ascended the stairs and Frau, after excusing herself by saying she must tend dinner as they always had dinner at noon--Herr wanted it so--left Alfy alone. Alfy roamed about the room and examined all kinds of curios,--queer baskets, curious vases, old fans and precious paintings and etchings. So quickly did the time pass that she never noticed Dorothy as she came into the room. "Well, Alfy, all ready to go home?" chirped Dorothy from behind her. "Well, well, I never knew you were through. When did you come into the room, just now?" asked Alfy. "Yes, Alfy, just now, and if I'm not mistaken, there is Gerald tooting his horn outside--he must be hailing us," remarked Dorothy. The girls quickly donned their coats, bid good-bye to Frau, and departed. Dorothy exclaimed in delight, "Look, look, Alfy, its dear Aurora, she must have come too! Oh, you dear, dear girl, I am so glad to see you!" And Dorothy embraced her, fondly kissing her several times. "Alfy, this is Aurora Banks, Gerald's sister. Aurora, you have heard me speak of Alfaretta many times, I am sure." "Oh, I am so glad to know you," heartily responded Aurora, "Dorothy is always talking of you." "Well, Jim, now I know what the surprise is," laughed Dorothy, "its Aurora." "Now, that's all wrong," warned Gerald, "altogether wrong." "No it isn't, is it Jim?" remarked Dorothy. "Well, yes and no," tactfully put in Jim. "The real surprise is this,--Aunt Betty has ordered a luncheon for all of us, a farewell luncheon for you, Dorothy, and we are all invited; so let's hurry home. I'm hungry for one." "And I--I am most near starved," cried Alfy. The young people reached home just as luncheon was ready, and my! what a luncheon it was; all declared there never was a finer. CHAPTER IV. IN NEW YORK. "Good-bye--good-bye--dear old Bellevieu," sang Dorothy. "Good-bye all for a long, long time, for to-day has my career begun." Aunt Betty looked sadly at the dear old home and felt very loathe to part from it and its comforts. Then all, Dorothy, Alfaretta, Jim and Aunt Betty, waved fond farewells to the faithful old force of servitors who stood lined up in the doorway. "Oh, Jim, boy," wailed Alfaretta, "we will soon be in New York and then I shall have to say good-bye to you for, goodness only knows how long it will be before I see you again." "That's right, Alfy dear," replied Jim, "always look for trouble. Just think of the good times we'll all have in New York before Dorothy really starts to travel." "Well, I suppose I might have thought of that, but I didn't," answered Alfy. "There is only a short drive now to the station," added Aunt Betty, "and I think you could get our tickets, Jim. Take this money and get four tickets for New York on the noon train, I think we have plenty of time to catch it." "I am so sorry that Herr and Frau are not with us. I just hate to go without him. It hardly seems right, does it, Aunty," asked Dorothy. "You know, Dorothy, that Herr has a very bad cold, and such a cough, I am quite worried about him. He would have come in spite of all that but Frau would not let him. I think Frau Deichenberg did a wise thing in keeping him home," replied Aunt Betty. "Seems as if I am not going to have a very happy start," lamented Dorothy. "I wanted Herr to hear me play and criticise." "Dorothy, girl, cheer up. That's no way to be when you are about to start on a career," sternly admonished Jim. "You have every reason to be happy." In the rush and excitement of getting the tickets and finding out just when and where the train came in, Dorothy forgot her sorrow. They all bid good-bye to Metty, who had driven them to the station and who drove away mourning to himself as he went, "Deedy, deedy. Lonesome, ve'y, ve'y lonesome will ole Bellevieu be wi'out de Misses and de li'le Misses dere." They were at last all seated on the train and quickly were speeding toward New York. Dorothy and Alfaretta were sitting together talking happily of the people in the car and of the passing, ever changing scenery. Aunt Betty and Jim were in the seat just in back of them. Suddenly the latter reached into his pocket and procured a letter, handing it to Aunt Betty to read, explaining he had written the Edison Co., of New York, and that that was their answer. Aunt Betty carefully read the letter through and turning to Jim, asked, "What are you going to do about it, my boy?" "That's just what I would like to know," answered Jim. "I always wanted to go to college, and have saved as much as I could, but I can't quite see my way clear to go there yet. I have studied very hard all along and have learned a great deal about electricity. The books Mr. Winters left me have helped me very much, but I am very far behind in some subjects required for entrance to college. My languages are very poor as is my history, and I write a very poor hand." "Well, Jim," answered Aunt Betty, "I am sure I do not know just what I would have you do in this case. The offer is for work in the--what department is it?" "The position is in the department of installation as assistant to the superintendent. The company is a very desirable one to be in. I have heard that they are very fair and that one who works well stands good chances," replied Jim. "I think we had better talk this over with someone before you decide one way or the other," added Aunt Betty. "Maybe Mr. Ludlow could tell us something of it." "I would have to live in New York," remarked Jim, "and where I do not know." "I should see that you were well established in your new place before I left New York," Aunt Betty said. "You are always so good, Aunt Betty," answered Jim. "The salary they have offered me is not very large, but is is twenty-five dollars a week." "Did Mr. Sterling have anything to do with trying to get you the place, Jim?" asked Aunt Betty. "Yes and no," responded Jim. "I used a letter from him for reference." "Well," rejoined Aunt Betty, "I think we had better leave the matter open and not say anything more about it till we talk it over with Mr. Ludlow. Don't say anything to the girls as yet for it will be quite a surprise for them." By this time the train was nearing New York and Dorothy asked Aunt Betty if they had not better get fixed up. Quickly gathering their things together, they left the train to find Mr. Ludlow waiting for them. Mr. Ludlow expected to take Aunt Betty and Dorothy right to the Martha Washington, where they could stay till Dorothy was ready to start on her tour, but Jim presented a new problem for the Martha Washington was a hotel for ladies only and no men can stay there. So calling a couple of taxicabs, he hustled Dorothy, Aunt Betty and Alfaretta in one, and taking the other with Jim he ordered the man to drive to the Prince Arthur. They reached their destination very quickly and Mr. Ludlow arranged for rooms for all. Leaving them in the possession, so to speak, of a bell-boy, he departed, saying he would see them early in the morning for a little while to tell Dorothy briefly what she would have to do for the next few days. The bell-boy conducted Alfaretta, Dorothy and Aunt Betty to the seventh floor, where, unlocking a door, he disclosed to them three very nice connecting rooms, and leaving them there he took Jim down the hall a few doors and showed him his room. Once inside the room, Alfy murmured faintly three or four times, "Oh!" "What's the matter, Alfy?" asked Dorothy. "I just can't get used to elevators," replied Alfy. "What nice rooms"--walking through them--"three rooms"--looking at them again--"two bedrooms--one parlor." "Two bedrooms and one sitting room," corrected Dorothy. "You take the single bedroom, Aunt Betty, and Alfy and I can use the double one." Alfy picked up her things and took them to the smaller bedroom and taking off her hat and coat and hanging them in the closet, she started immediately to unpack. "What a lovely room ours is," remarked Alfy, "it's such a pretty pink and white." Aunt Betty took off her things and Dorothy insisted she go in the sitting room and stay there till they had unpacked everything. Shortly they heard a knock at the door. Alfy ran to open it. It was Jim. Coming into the room, he said, "I have a nice little room, but as I finished unpacking my things I thought I would come in here and see how you were." "We are all settled now," said Aunt Betty. "Dorothy and Alfy have been quite busy. But children, come now, we must all dress for dinner. When you are ready, Jim, come back here." Jim was ready in no time, so he went into Dorothy's sitting room and waited there, reading a magazine. Very shortly the girls were ready and they all descended into the large dining room. Alfy, clinging to Dorothy's hand, said, "Oh, Dorothy dear, I am quite scared. What shall I do?" "Do just as I do," whispered the more experienced Dorothy, quietly leading Alfy into the room. Odd it is that those accustomed to hotel life are inapt to think of the trepidation of the novice or new comer. The head waiter conducted them to a table in the corner, then handed them his bill of fare. "What would you like to have?" Aunt Betty asked Alfaretta. "Oh, dear, most anything suits me, just what I would like to have I can't think. I want just what Dorothy orders," answered Alfy. "Well, Dorothy girl," said Aunt Betty, turning to her, "what will it be?" "I would like--oh, let me see. Can we have oysters, Aunt Betty?" asked Dorothy. "Then steak and baked potatoes. For salad just plain lettuce with French dressing." "Yes, that will do very nicely, dear, and we can have ice cream for dessert," answered Aunt Betty, who gave the order to the waiter. Shortly after they were served and all voted that they were enjoying a delightful repast. "What kind of ice cream would you like, Alfy?" asked Aunt Betty. "Strawberry," promptly answered Alfy, "it's so nice and pink." "Chocolate for me," cried Dorothy. "And for me, too," joined in Jim. "I think I shall have plain vanilla," added Aunt Betty, laughing. When dinner was over and a very pleasant meal it was, they all went up to Dorothy's sitting room for a quiet evening. "Oh, Dorothy and Aunt Betty, I had just the best dinner I have ever had. I must, I just must write it all to Ma Babcock, she will sure want to tell it at Liza Jane's." With that Alfy crossed the floor and entered her room where she wrote a long, long letter home telling her mother of the wonders of a New York hotel. "Ting-ling-ling-ling," bussed the telephone in the hall. Dorothy answered the call saying, "Hello. Oh! Why we are all up here. Where? Oh, yes, in the sitting room. Yes. Yes. Now? All right. Good-bye." Turning to Aunt Betty, Dorothy said, "It's Mr. Ludlow." "What did he want, dear?" asked Aunt Betty. "He is coming right up here," replied Dorothy. "There, that's him now. Didn't you hear a knock?" Opening the door she found Mr. Ludlow there. "Come in, Mr. Ludlow." Mr. Ludlow came in and deposited his gloves, cane and hat on a vacant space upon the table, then he sat down and turning to Dorothy said: "I suppose, little girl, you are very, very curious to know where you are going to play to-morrow--no, not to-morrow--the next day." "Yes, I am," timidly responded Dorothy. "Well, I am going to give you a treat. To-morrow I am going to ask Aunt Betty to take all you young folks to a matinee. I hope I have picked out a play that will suit you all. I have chosen 'Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.' I suppose you are quite familiar with the little heroine, Dorothy." "No, Mr. Ludlow, I am sorry to say I do not know her." "Oh dear, Dorothy didn't I get you the book to read?" asked Aunt Betty. "Yes, Aunt Betty," answered Dorothy, "but Molly took it home with her. She wanted something to read on the cars." "Well, well, never mind, you will enjoy the play all the more for not having read the story. Here are the seats, Mrs. Calvert. And, Dorothy, I would like you to notice the naturalness of the characters in the play, and profit by it. Naturalness and ease mean a great deal for you,--self possession--poise, my dear." "What about the concert? Where is that? When? Here I am asking questions faster than you can answer them," remarked Dorothy. "In time, in time, my dear," responded Mr. Ludlow. "Thursday I will call for you here and take you with me to Carnegie Hall, where, my dear, you will render two pieces. The rest of the concert has been arranged for, and the small part left for you will not scare you, but only help to get you used to playing before large audiences. Now, Dorothy child, what would you like to play? This time you can choose your own pieces." "I should like to play what Aunt Betty and Jim like best," answered Dorothy; "they hear me play oftener than anyone else." "My choice is 'Das Gude vom Lied,' by Schuman," replied Aunt Betty. "And mine is 'Rondo a capriccio,' by Beethoven," said Jim. "All right, all right, they will suit exactly," added Mr. Ludlow. "Mr. Ludlow," remarked Aunt Betty, "I would like to take up a few minutes of your time when you are finished with Dorothy." "I shall be through in just a few minutes, madam," answered Mr. Ludlow. "Do you want me to play again in New York?" questioned Dorothy. "Yes, just once more, my dear," answered Mr. Ludlow. "That is on Saturday night at the Hippodrome, at 8.15 p. m. It's a benefit concert for the blind babies of New York. Many famous people are offering their talent. You do not mind playing there, do you? Your future plans we will discuss later, but that will be all for now. No--I shall have to know what you are going to play there. May I suggest that 'Southern Medley' you play so well, and one other piece, say Shubert's 'Serenade.' Now have a good time to-morrow and be ready at one o'clock sharp, on Thursday." "What I wanted to say, Mr. Ludlow, was concerning Jim. He is thinking of taking a business proposition with the Edison Company as assistant in the department of installation," added Aunt Betty. "Why, really, Mrs. Calvert, I hardly know much about that line of business, but judging from hearsay I should say that Jim was very lucky indeed to get such an offer," answered Mr. Ludlow. "Haven't you any business friends in New York?" "Why Mr. Ford, the railroad man might help," announced Jim from his corner. "By all means see Mr. Ford," said Mr. Ludlow. "It's getting very late and I must go." "I will be ready for you in time on Thursday. And thank you, oh so much, for the tickets for to-morrow," replied Dorothy. CHAPTER V. THE CARNEGIE HALL CONCERT. "Oh, dear, what a lazy girl I am. Nine o'clock and I have not had breakfast. What day is it? Thursday,--and Mr. Ludlow coming here at one o'clock. I must hurry for I must practice some," murmured Dorothy to herself. "Dorothy girl, are you still in bed?" called Aunt Betty from the next room. "I'll be with you in just a minute, Aunty dear. I'm most ready. Oh, Alfy, please help me,--please," called Dorothy. "All right," replied Alfy, "do you need me to do up the back of your dress?" "Yes, and that's all. I'm so late. I did want to write Frau this morning, too," said Dorothy crossly. "Come, let's go to breakfast." After breakfast Dorothy practiced and Aunt Betty and Alfaretta took a walk and visited some of the large stores where they did a little shopping, Aunt Betty buying the girls each a pair of long white gloves and an Irish-lawn collar at Altman's. Dorothy was all dressed and waiting for them when they got home. She had on a very simple white dress, one they had made, with just a touch of pink, a small pink bow, at the waist, and a pink hair ribbon. She had practiced the two compositions thoroughly and felt that she knew them perfectly. True, she did feel a slight bit nervous, but in her past experience when she had her violin in her hands she lost self-consciousness and became wrapped up in her music. "Dorothy," called Alfy, "we are home, and, see, Aunt Betty bought me these. They are so pretty and I always did want them. I'm so glad I have them. But you go to Aunt Betty, she has something for you." "You are a funny girl, Alf," answered Dorothy. "You have been talking away and I haven't any idea what you were trying to get at. Aunt Betty, where are you?" "In the sitting room, dear," answered Aunt Betty. "What is Alfy talking about, Aunt Betty?" asked Dorothy, walking into the room. "This and this," replied Aunt Betty, holding up two packages. "These are for you, dear." Dorothy, taking the two packages and kissing her aunt, murmured: "You dear, dear Aunt Betty. I must see what's inside." She carefully opened the first and exclaimed as she drew forth a long pair of white gloves, "Oh, goody, goody. Just what I have been longing for." And then opening the second package she found it contained a very beautiful Irish crochetted collar. "Aunt Betty! You dear, dear Aunt Betty. Just think how fine this will look with my gray coat. Just like all the girls we see here in New York. You are the best aunt ever a girl had." Dorothy then gathered up her treasures and took them with her into the next room to put them away. Aunt Betty went into Alfy's room and said, "Alfy dear, if you will give me your coat I will help you sew the collar on it so you can wear it this afternoon." "Oh! that will be fine! I can wear it to the concert. And can I wear the red hair ribbon Ma Babcock bought me from Liza Jane's?" said Alfy. "Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling," rang the telephone bell. Dorothy rushed across the room to answer it and found that Mr. Ludlow was waiting for her below in a taxicab. "Good-bye, Aunt Betty, dear," called Dorothy; then running into her Aunt's room she kissed her several times. "You will all surely come. I do need you all there." "We'll be there in plenty of time, Dorothy dear," answered Aunt Betty. "Now run along girlie, and don't forget your violin." "Here it is," cried Alfy from the next room, "I'll bring it to you." "You're a dear, Alfy," called Dorothy, who by this time was already in the hall. Mr. Ludlow escorted Dorothy to the taxicab, getting in with her and, shutting the door, he directed the driver to go to Carnegie Hall. "Well, Dorothy, child," asked Mr. Ludlow, "is everything all right? You are not scared, are you? You just try to do your best and everything will be fine." "I'm not scared, I'm sure of that; but do you think the people will like me?" questioned Dorothy. "Sure of that, my dear, sure of that. All you must do is just be your very own self," laughed Mr. Ludlow. "But here we are and we must get out." The driver stopped the cab and they quickly descended and walked into the building. "Now, Dorothy, I am going to show you around the place. Just follow me," directed Mr. Ludlow. Dorothy looked at the large room and the many chairs and said hesitatingly, "Will it be crowded?"--and when Mr. Ludlow said he hoped so, she sighed and murmured: "My, what a lot of people I shall have to please!" then she added softly to herself, "Jim, Alfy and Aunt Betty; they will surely be pleased and the rest will, too, if I can make them." Mr. Ludlow then led Dorothy to the stage and made her walk up and down and all over the place so that she would get familiar with it. "Mr. Ludlow," asked Dorothy, "where shall I stand?" "Right about here," answered Mr. Ludlow, walking to the front of the stage and a little to the left. "Don't face directly front." "Is this right?" asked Dorothy, taking the position Mr. Ludlow requested. "That will do,--that will do just right," answered Mr. Ludlow. "Now come inside and I will take you to see some of the noted artists who are going to play or sing." He led Dorothy in from the stage and through a long narrow passage which terminated in a large room where there were numerous chairs, tables and couches. Dorothy noticed three or four girls talking together in the center of the room but those in other groups all seemed to be older. Mr. Ludlow walked over to the group in the center of the room and addressing a small, fair girl, said, "Good afternoon, Miss Boothington." The girl turned and seeing Mr. Ludlow, exclaimed, "Mr. Ludlow, I am so glad you are here. I did want you to hear my singing and criticize. You will, will you not?" "Miss Boothington, that shall be as you please. But now let me present you to a little friend of mine. This," remarked Mr. Ludlow, turning to Dorothy, "is Miss Dorothy Calvert, and Dorothy, this is my ward, Miss Ruth Boothington. Miss Boothington sings, and will be one of our companions on your trip." "I am so glad to meet you, Miss Calvert," replied Miss Boothington. "As we are to be so much together, please call me Dorothy if you will," interrupted Dorothy. "And you will call me Ruth," Miss Boothington remarked. "I know we shall have some very fine times together. And you are a solo violinist?" "Yes, I play the violin," answered Dorothy. "Are you going to sing to-day?" "Yes," answered Ruth. "At least I am going to try to." "Here, here. That will never do, Miss Ruth. You should have said that you would sing. Of course you would sing," remarked Mr. Ludlow. Turning to Dorothy, he said, "Well, Dorothy, I think I shall leave you here with Miss Boothington. I guess she can take care of you. I am going to the front and will sit with your Aunt Betty." With that Mr. Ludlow left the two girls and walked out and around front where he looked for Aunt Betty. "Is this the place? My, ain't it big!" exclaimed Alfy, as Aunt Betty and Jim followed her to the door. "I have our tickets here," remarked Jim, presenting them to the doorkeeper. "I guess we shall have to go right in and get our seats," added Aunt Betty. "Keep close to me, Alfy, and Jim, you see that Alfy doesn't get lost." They were at last ushered into a large box on the right side of the house. "My, what a lot of seats. Is there going to be people in all of them?" asked Alfy, leaning so far out of the box that she almost fell over the rail. "Here! You sit still," sharply corrected Jim. "And, Alfy, try to act like a young lady, not like a back-woods little girl. Sit still." Alfy reluctantly subsided and appeared to be rather angry. Aunt Betty, noticing this said, "Watch me, Alfy, and do as I do and you will be all right." "Good-afternoon, Mr. Ludlow," said Jim, making room for him. "Good-afternoon, all," answered Mr. Ludlow, seating himself next Aunt Betty. "Did you come to keep us company all the afternoon?" asked Aunt Betty. "Or did you just wish to hear Dorothy play?" "I thought you wouldn't mind if I sat with you," replied Mr. Ludlow. "I have quite a few young friends who are to help entertain us this afternoon. I do hope you shall enjoy them." Ruth had, in the meantime, presented Dorothy to the other girls in the group, and they all chattered gayly for a while. Ruth glanced at her watch, and drawing Dorothy aside, said, "Let's sit down quietly for a few minutes, and say nothing at all. It always helps to calm you and give you self-possession." The girls walked to a far end of the room and sat down, keeping silent for several minutes. Then Ruth broke the silence by asking, "Where is your violin, Dorothy?" "I guess it's over there where we were standing before," replied Dorothy, rising and making her way quickly to the spot. But no violin was visible. "My!" exclaimed Ruth. "What did you do with it?" "Oh," lamented Dorothy, "I don't know." "Where did you have it last?" questioned Ruth. "I had it home in the hotel," moaned Dorothy, most in tears. "I remember I did bring it. Alfy handed it to me and I took it in the taxi." "In the taxi? That's where you left it, you foolish child," interrupted Ruth. "How, oh how, can I get it? I must have it. I have to play," groaned Dorothy. "Run! Run and telephone. Call up the New York Taxicab Company," breathlessly exclaimed Ruth. "Oh, oh, Dorothy, I must go! I must! I just must, yet how can I leave you here--but I have got to sing now. Oh, I am all out of breath." "Stop talking, you dear girl, and go and sing your best so as to make them give you an encore, anything to gain more time for me. Now go!" And Dorothy kissed her and pushed her forward. Running down the length of the room, she flew into a telephone booth, and hastily searching out the number called up Columbus 6,000. "Hello, hello," called Dorothy, frantically. "Hello! Is--has--a man come back with a violin in his taxicab--I must have it! I have to play! Yes. Yes. Yes. No. No. Good-bye." She hung up the receiver, and sat back despondently. The cab had not returned in which she had ridden to the hall. "Oh, what shall I do! No violin and my turn to play next. What shall I do, oh, what shall I do?" "Miss Calvert," called the boy. "Your turn next." "Oh, dear," moaned Dorothy, "see if you can borrow an instrument for me from one of the musicians in the orchestra." Just then a man rushed into the room carrying a violin under his arm. Dorothy ran up to him and fairly snatched the precious thing out of his arms, exclaiming, "I can play now. I can. I can! Oh, thank you, thank you! But I must go. Please come to the Prince Arthur to-night at 8.30 p. m. I will see you then." With that she dashed off, and trying to calm herself, walked upon the stage. She carefully positioned herself just where Mr. Ludlow had told her to stand, and waiting for the introduction to be played by the orchestra, looked around the house, and discovering the box party, smiled at them gayly. When the last few bars of the music were played, gracefully placing her violin in position she commenced to draw her bow gently across the strings and produced clear, vibrant tones. Her body moved rhythmically, swaying back and forward in perfect accord with the music. The audience listened spellbound, and when she had finished the whole house echoed with applause. She then walked slowly off the stage, only to be motioned back again to play an encore which she did with as much success as she had scored with her first piece. When she turned from the stage the second time Ruth, who was waiting in the wings, whispered in her ear, "Dorothy dear, you did just splendidly, and you will surely be a great success. The people applauded you so very much I thought they would never stop." "Oh, I'm so glad. I do hope Mr. Ludlow liked it, and is satisfied with me," murmured Dorothy. "I can answer that, Dorothy," said a voice in back of her that belonged to Mr. Ludlow, who had left the box just as Dorothy had finished playing and come to speak to them. "Both of you girls did very well indeed. Very well indeed. But come now with me and we'll go around and sit in the box and listen to the rest of the concert. I want to hear it all." With that they traced their way back and soon were seated with the rest of the party. Dorothy told them all about how she had lost her violin and at the last minute recovering it vowed that she would be more careful of it in the future. The little party was loud in its praises of Dorothy's playing and Ruth's singing, for Dorothy presented her new friend to them as soon as she could. That evening they learned that it was the chauffeur of the taxicab who had found the violin in the auto before he had returned to the garage, and he had immediately started back for the hall with it, knowing it would be needed. Dorothy sent a letter of thanks and a reward, and Aunt Betty, learning the next day that he had a little boy with a broken leg in the hospital, sent a large basket of fruit for the young sufferer. CHAPTER VI. THE OPERA. The girls spent the next day in a very quiet manner. The morning passed quickly as they wrote letters and fixed up their rooms. About dinner time Jim knocked at the door and Dorothy answered. "Dorothy, I have written and 'phoned Mr. Ford and I can't seem to get any answer from him," announced Jim. "What did you want him for, Jim?" questioned Dorothy. "Why, I wanted to get his opinion on that position I want to take with the Edison Co.," answered Jim. "I have it!" exclaimed Dorothy. "Send him a telegram." "I might try that, though I have about made up my mind----" Just at that moment Aunt Betty called from her room, "Dorothy, Dorothy, girl!" "Yes, Aunt Betty," answered Dorothy, going to her aunt's door. "What may you want?" "Don't you think it would be real nice if we four went for a drive this afternoon? It's a nice warm afternoon and we can go up Fifth avenue and into the park," suggested Aunt Betty. "That will be fine. I'll run and tell Alfy and we'll get ready," responded Dorothy, going quickly out of the room. "Alfy! Alfy! Where are you?" "In here," called Alfy from her room. Dorothy rushed into the room, crying, "Alfy dear, just think, we are going driving this afternoon, Aunt Betty, Jim, and you and I. We are going driving--driving." "Oh, that's just great," exclaimed Alfy, dancing round the room. "It's fun to go driving in a big city." "Let's get ready right away," said Dorothy, taking Alfy's hand and dancing round in a circle with her, singing, "Let's get ready, let's get ready, let's get ready right away." And then they let go of each other's hands and danced away to accomplish the art of "getting ready right away." Very soon the girls were in the sitting room waiting for Jim and Aunt Betty. Just then Jim burst into the room crying, "Dorothy, I can't get a horse and carriage here to drive myself like one has in Baltimore, but I did get a nice automobile. I guess it will not cost any more, for we cover so much ground in a short time. I found a large, red touring car that just holds five and the chauffeur is downstairs now waiting for us, so hustle into your things." "An auto ride! That's better still," responded Alfy as she rushed to put on her hat and coat. "I am all ready, dear," called Aunt Betty from the next room. "Well, then, come on," answered Jim. "All come with me." And they followed him down and out to the automobile. They were very much delighted with the auto car, and the three, Aunt Betty, Dorothy and Alfy, climbed into the back seat, and Jim took his place with the driver. Aunt Betty called, "Jim, Jim, please tell the chauffeur to drive slowly and to go up Fifth avenue." Away they went. "Oh, oh, oh!" gasped Alfy at the first corner. "Oh, I most thought we would bump into that trolley car!" "Well," said Jim, "we didn't, but it was a pretty close shave." "Just think of all the people we might have hurt if we had," said Dorothy. "I guess," replied Jim, "that the only ones hurt would have been ourselves, for the trolley is so heavy we couldn't have bothered that much." Just then they turned into Fifth avenue and joined the procession of already too many machines that were slowly wending their way up and down that old thoroughfare. "Dorothy and Alfy," said Aunt Betty, "in those large houses live the very rich of New York." "Oh, I wouldn't live in a house like that," said Alfy, "if I was rich. I couldn't, I just could never be happy in one like that," pointing to a large gray stone mansion. "It hasn't any garden and windows only in the front, and looks like a pile of boxes, one on top of the other." "Don't the people in New York care for gardens, aunty dear?" questioned Dorothy. "Yes. Yes, indeed, dear. But these are only their winter homes," laughed Aunt Betty. "They have summer homes in the country where they have very beautiful gardens. They only spend a few months here in these houses each winter." "Well, I would rather have a real home for all the time," said practical Jim. "A real home, like Bellevieu." "Dear, dear old Bellevieu, I wouldn't exchange it either for all of these places," whispered Dorothy. "And after this trip is over, and I have made a lot of money, we will all go back there again, and I will build that new sun-parlor Aunt Betty has so long wanted." Aunt Betty sighed, for she and she only knew how badly off was the poor old estate. The mortgage that must be paid and the repairs and other things that were needed. She hoped that Dorothy's trip would be a success, and that she could pay off the mortgage at last. Then answering Dorothy, she said, "Dear, dear little girl, you are always trying to think of something pleasant for someone else. Never mind your old Aunt Betty, dear." "But I do," whispered Dorothy in her ear, "because I love you more than anyone else in the world." "Yes, dear, maybe now you do," rejoined Aunt Betty, "but some day, some day wait and see." They eagerly looked at the beautiful homes, the large and handsome hotels and most of all the happy throng of people who filled the streets, remarking that they had never before seen quite so many people, each hurrying along apparently to do his or her special duty. From Fifth avenue they went up Riverside Drive, around Grant's Tomb. Then as the limit of time they had arranged for was nearly up they told the chauffeur to drive home, all happy and full of thoughts of the new things they had seen. "Well, what next, Dorothy girl?" exclaimed Aunt Betty. "Why, I don't quite know. Let me see--just what day is this?" said Dorothy to herself. "It's--it's--oh, yes, it's Friday! Oh, oh! Why we must all hurry, hurry, hurry--dress right at once." "Dorothy, child, what ails you?" laughed Aunt Betty. "Talking away so fast and all to yourself. Come now, tell me what you want us to dress for?" "Why, aunty, I had most forgotten it. It's Friday, and we promised--I mean I promised--but I forgot all about it," continued Dorothy. Just then Alfy interrupted. "Dorothy I am most dead with curiosity; tell us quick, please." "Well," rejoined Dorothy, "it's just this. You see, I promised--" "You said all that before," interrupted Alfy again. "Be still, Alfy, or I just won't tell," scolded Dorothy. "Mr. Ludlow is coming here at eight o'clock to take us all to the opera. Miss Boothington, Ruth, is going also. He told me to tell you all, and I just guess I must have since then forgotten. I don't see how I did, but I just did. Oh, aunty, it's a box Mr. Ludlow has and we must dress all up 'cause all the millionaires of New York go to the opera." "Dorothy dear, whatever made you forget?" asked Aunt Betty. "Guess 'cause she is doing and seeing so much she has lost track of the days. Isn't that so?" chimed in Alfy. "That doesn't excuse my little girl," remarked Aunt Betty, and turning to Dorothy, "What is it we are going to hear, dearest?" "I think Mr. Ludlow said 'Koenigskinder'," answered Dorothy. "I am not sure but that's what I think he said." "Ah, yes," said Aunt Betty, "that is a comparatively new opera and Miss Geraldine Farrar sings the principal part in it. She plays the part of the goose-girl. Well, I guess we had better hurry. We must dress and have dinner before Mr. Ludlow gets here for us." "Can I wear that new pink dress, Aunty?" called Dorothy. "Why, dear, I would keep that one for one of your concerts, and if I were you I would wear the little white one with the blue ribbons, and tell Alfy she might wear the white dress Miss Lenox made for her before we left Baltimore," said Aunt Betty. "All right," called back Dorothy. It didn't take the girls long to get dressed, and when they were finished they appeared in the sitting room. Both Jim and Aunt Betty declared that there weren't two finer girls in all New York City. And Jim added under his breath, "In all the world," thinking only of Dorothy then. Down they went for dinner, and so anxious were they that they should not be late that the meal was passed over as quickly and quietly as possible. They had just reached their rooms when Mr. Ludlow was announced, and gathering up their wraps and long white gloves--for Alfy thought more of these white gloves than anything else she owned just then--they went forth to meet Mr. Ludlow. "Well, well," said Mr. Ludlow, who was standing beside Ruth in the lobby, "all here and all ready. I do wish you would set the same example of promptness for Ruth. She is always, always late." "Well," replied Ruth, "somehow I always try but just can't seem to get dressed in time. I didn't keep you waiting very long to-day, did I?" "Well, dear, that is because I said that the longer you kept me waiting, the less you could have for dinner," laughed Mr. Ludlow. "Maybe that is why, because I do get so tired of boarding house meals," rejoined Ruth, and, turning to Dorothy, "Come dear, the auto is all ready and we are not so very early." The others followed them and soon they reached the Metropolitan Opera House, and after passing through the crowded lobby, entered the foyer. It was quite dark, and very quietly they followed Mr. Ludlow, whose box was on the right hand side, well toward the stage. They were presently all seated, but before they had time to talk or look around much the music began. And such music. Dorothy was oblivious to all else as she followed the score. For memory's convenience she wrote out the plot of the opera, the next day, and here is a copy from her diary: The Goose-Girl lives in the hills which look down in the town of Hellabrunn. Around her stray her geese. She lies on the green grass, beneath the branches of a shady linden-tree. Near her is the hut which she inhabits with an old cruel Witch. Behind her stretch wild woods and lonely mountains. She sings and feeds her flock. The Witch appears, scolding and berating the girl, whom she orders to prepare a magic pasty which will kill whoever eats of it. The Goose-Girl begs the Witch to let her go into the world of men. But she implores in vain. Out of the woods, and from the hills, a youth comes roving. He seems poor. But by his side there hangs a sword and in his hand he holds a bundle. He is the King's Son, though the Goose-Girl does not know it. And in the bundle is a royal crown. The King's Son tells the Goose-Girl of his wanderings. He has left his home, and the King's service, to be free. The Goose-Girl asks him what a King may be. He answers her, marvelling at her beauty and her ignorance. She longs to follow him. He falls in love with her, and asks her to go maying with him, through the summer land. He kisses her; and then a gust of wind blows the girl's wreath away. The King's Son picks up the wreath and hides it near his heart. In exchange for it he offers her his crown. The sweethearts are about to run off together when a wild wind alarms them and the Goose-Girl finds her feet glued to the ground. Thinking she is afraid to roam with him the King's Son tosses his crown into the grass, tells the girl that she is unworthy to be a King's mate and leaves her, vowing she shall never see him more till a star has fallen into a fair lily which is blooming near. The Goose-Girl is still sighing for her lover, when the Witch returns, abuses her for having wasted her time on a man and weaves a magic spell to prevent her escape. A Fiddler enters, singing a strange song. He is followed by two citizens of Hellabrunn, a Woodcutter and a Broom (or besom) maker, who have been sent to ask the Witch where they can find the son of the King, who is just dead. They are in mortal fear of the old woman. But the Fiddler scoffs at her and all her arts. The Fiddler, acting as their mouthpiece, says that the people of Hellabrunn are dying to have a King or a Queen to rule over them. The Witch replies that the first person, rich or in rags, who enters the town gate next day at noon should be enthroned. The Woodcutter and Broom-maker go back to Hellabrunn. But the Fiddler lingers, suspecting that the Goose-Girl is in the hut. Soon she appears and confides her sorrows to the Fiddler, who assures her she shall wed the King's Son. The Witch, however, jeers at the thought and tells the Fiddler that the girl is the child of a hangman's daughter. In spite of all, the Goose-Girl plucks up heart, for she feels that her soul is royal and she knows that she will not shame her kingly lover. She prays to her dead father and mother for help. And as she kneels, a shooting star falls into the lily. The Goose-Girl runs off into the woods with her flock, to join her sweetheart, and this ends the first act. In the second act the town of Hellabrunn is in a turmoil of excitement, awaiting the new ruler. Near the town-gate is an inn. The Innkeeper's Daughter is scolding the Stable-Maid, when the King's Son enters, poorly clad as before. Though she despises his poverty, the Innkeeper's Daughter coquettes with him; for he is comely. She gives him food and drink, which seem coarse to him, and advises him to get married. He declines and arouses the girl's anger. The people enter, seat themselves and drink. A Gate-keeper forbids any to approach the gate, which must be left free for the coming King. Musicians enter, playing pipes and bagpipes. A dance begins. The Innkeeper and his servants bustle about. He sees the King's Son, who offers himself to him as an apprentice, but is told that there is no work for him, unless he is willing to be a swineherd. He consents. The Woodcutter appears, with the Broom-maker and his thirteen daughters. The Woodcutter, swelling with importance, tosses a gulden on the Innkeeper's table, to wipe out an old score, but pockets it again when unobserved. One of the Broom-maker's daughters asks the King's Son to play at Ring-a-rosy with her. Their game is interrupted by the entrance of the Town Councillors and well-to-do Burghers, with their wives and children. The Councillors seat themselves in a tribune erected for them and the eldest of them invites the Woodcutter to relate his adventures in the woods. The King's Son is amazed to hear him tell of imaginary dangers which he has encountered with the Broom-maker. He learns from the Woodcutter's account, however, that on the stroke of twelve a King's Son, richly clad, and bright with gems, will enter by the now closed gate. He asks the people if the expected monarch might not come in rags. They laugh at the idea and he is accused of being a meddler, rogue and thief. The clock strikes twelve. The crowd rushes toward the gate. An intuition warns the King's Son who is near. Then, as the gate is opened, the poor Goose-Girl enters, escorted by her geese. She tells the King's Son she has come to join him on his throne. But the crowd jeers at her and scorns her youthful lover and though the Fiddler storms and rages at their blindness, the two lovers are driven out with sticks and stones. Only the Fiddler and the little daughter of the Broom-maker believe them worthy of the throne. This was where the curtain went down and I thought it was the end. Oh, how disappointed I was, and then how happy, when I knew there was another act. Winter has come. Since the expulsion of the King's Son and his sweetheart, the Witch has been burned at the stake for her supposed betrayal of the people to whom she had promised a new ruler. The Fiddler, who has been maimed and imprisoned for defending the outcasts, now lives alone in the Witch's hut, where he is feeding the doves the Goose-Girl has left behind. He is disturbed by the arrival of the Woodcutter and the Broom-maker, with a troop of children who have come to entreat him to come back to Hellabrunn. He refuses. But when one of the children begs him to lead them all in search of the lost King's Son and his bride, he consents. The Woodcutter and the Broom-maker withdraw into the hut, where they discover the poisoned pasty which the Witch had baked. Hardly have the echoes of a song sung by the Fiddler died away, when the King's Son and the Goose-Girl re-appear, hungry and thirsting and worn out with wandering. They stop to rest and the King's Son knocks at the door of the hut to beg food and shelter. The Woodcutter refuses to give them anything. To comfort her sweetheart, the Goose-Girl pretends she is none the worse for her long travels over hill and dale in the vain effort to discover the King's Son's old home. She sings and dances to him. But she soon grows faint and falls. To save his love from starving, the King's Son then barters his royal crown, which he has found again, for the poisoned pasty. The outcasts eat it and soon after die, fancying themselves happy in a land of love and roses. With her last breath the Goose-Girl braves grim Death who threatens her and sighs "I love thee, dear!" The Fiddler and the troop of little children then return, only to learn that they have found the outcasts but to lose them. They lay the youthful lovers on a bier and bear them away to bury them on a high hill. And as they go, they sing a last lament for the poor "Kingly Children." After the opera, Mr. Ludlow invited them to a supper at one of the cafes, but Aunt Betty demurred, as it was quite late, and so they were driven straight home. "Alfy," said Dorothy, when they had reached their rooms, "you are such a funny girl. You didn't half pay attention to the opera at all. All I saw you doing was looking at the ladies in the boxes." "I was trying to remember the dress of the lady in that one box, the one that glistened all over with diamonds. I wanted to write and tell Ma Babcock just how to make it. It was so stylish, and had such a nice low neck and long train," said Alfy. "Alfy, are you sure you are not crazy?" laughed Dorothy. "Oh, oh! Just imagine Ma Babcock in a dress like that! Oh, dear! It's so funny." "Why, Dorothy!" angrily added Alfy, "why couldn't ma have a dress like that? And anyway, I couldn't understand a word they were singing. I am going right to bed, I am, so there!" "Alfy, dear, don't you know that people only wear dresses like that to evening affairs, and, of course, you couldn't understand, it was all in German. Here, kiss me good-night." The girls kissed each other and were soon fast asleep. CHAPTER VII. AN EPISODE. The next morning no one arose very early. They were all quite willing to rest. Jim, first of all, was up and out. He had been working over a list of boarding houses as he had quite decided to take the position, and his salary would not permit him to live in an expensive hotel. He had not been very successful and on returning to the hotel found Aunt Betty reading in their sitting room. "Aunt Betty," said Jim. "Yes," answered Aunt Betty, "what is it? Do you want to talk business with me?" "Yes, business," responded Jim, doubtfully. "I have been out all the morning trying to find a boarding house." "A boarding house?" echoed Aunt Betty. "Yes, a boarding house," answered Jim. "You see I have quite decided to take the position. I received a letter from Mr. Ford's secretary saying Mr. Ford is abroad, and not expected back for some time. And if I work there at the Edison, I must live in a boarding house not too far away from there. I didn't have much luck." "Why not ask Mr. Ludlow? He might know of a place," suggested Aunt Betty. "Or maybe you could see if there is a room at that place where Ruth, Miss Boothington, is staying. You remember her saying that she was tired of boarding house meals, do you not?" "I never thought of that," added Jim. "Suppose I ask Dorothy where she lives, maybe she knows." "Yes, call her," replied Aunt Betty. "Dorothy! Dorothy! Where are you?" called Jim. "Here, in Alfy's room, I have been writing in my diary," answered the girl. "I will be there in just a minute. Oh, dear," she continued to herself, "I just can't seem to ever write to Frau. Every time I start on that letter someone calls, and then I stop writing, and it is so long before I can get at it again. I have to begin all over." "Well, young man, what is it this time?" she said, turning to Jim as she entered the room. "It's just this, Dorothy. You see, I am going to take the position in New York and I must live here," started Jim. "Ah, Jim, you never told me anything about really taking a position. I just supposed that--well, I don't quite know--but I didn't think you really meant to do it," interrupted Dorothy. "I do, Dorothy, mean it. And I have made up my mind to take it and work, so hard that some day I can make a man out of myself like Dr. Sterling and some others I know," replied Jim. "But to get down to the point why we called you, Aunt Betty thought you might help in finding a boarding place for me. You see, I must live here in the city, and it's hard to find a good boarding place. Miss Ruth, last night, said something about her place. Do you know where it is?" "No, Jim, I can't say that I do, but I heard her say that it was down on lower Fifth avenue--way downtown, she said. I might call up Mr. Ludlow and find out right now, or you can wait till to-night, for I play at that concert at the Hippodrome this evening, you know." "Call him up now, dear," suggested Aunt Betty from her corner. "Then you and Jim can take a walk there this afternoon. Alfy and I can find something to amuse ourselves with. We could take one of those stages and ride up Fifth avenue on it. It's a fine ride on a nice day like this." "Very well," answered Dorothy, immediately going to the telephone, and acting on her aunt's suggestion. Jim and Aunt Betty sat quietly by till she had finished her conversation at the telephone. "Mr. Ludlow says that Ruth lives on Fifth avenue, near Washington square, and it's a very large, old-fashioned boarding house run by an elderly southern lady, who, being in very adverse circumstances, had to take hold and do something. He said that the rooms were fairly large, the meals first rate and the charges moderate, and that we had better see her at once because she has usually a pretty full house," added Dorothy. "Why not start at once, dear," replied Aunt Betty. "Then you can come home and practice this afternoon, and as Alfy and I will be out there will be nothing to distract you." "Yes, let's go now, Dorothy, if you can spare the time to go with me," pleaded Jim. "Where is it near?" "He says it is near Ninth street," replied Dorothy. "All right, Jim, I will be ready in a few minutes. Oh dear," she sighed to herself, "poor Frau will not get her letter very soon, I guess. Well, I can write this afternoon, after I practice, and I will make the letter extra long so as to make up for the time I have taken to write her." "Good-bye, Aunt Betty," called Dorothy a short time later. "Good-bye, Aunt Betty," echoed Jim. "We'll be back soon." With that the two disappeared and Aunt Betty from her corner sighed as she thought of what a charming pair the pretty Dorothy and the tall youth made. "Shall we ride?" asked Jim. "No. Let's walk, it is not far, only a few blocks," said Dorothy. "That's just what I wanted to do," replied Jim, "only I was most afraid you would not care to. We haven't had a good walk in a long time." They walked on silently as the streets were so crowded and there was lots to see, and the crossings required much attention, these two not being used to the busy streets of New York, where one has to look in all directions at once and keep moving lively to avoid being run into by the many automobiles or trucks that are hurrying along. Finally Dorothy, observing the number on the houses, said: "Here we are, this is the house." Up the steps they ran and Jim gave the old-fashioned bell a vigorous pull. "Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling," vaguely sounded from somewhere within and presently a pleasant faced young girl with white cap and apron and dark dress, said in a low voice, "Whom do you wish to see?" Jim answered, "Will you tell Miss Boothington that Miss Dorothy Calvert wishes to see her?" Slowly they followed the neat maid into the old fashioned parlor and waited there for her to take the message to Ruth. "Oh, Jim," whispered Dorothy, very softly putting her hand on Jim's arm. "Jim, if I were you I should love to stay here. It is more like a home, a real home than any place I have been in, in the big city." "Yes, it is. And it is so quiet and restful. I do hope there will be room for me here," answered Jim. Just then they heard foot-steps on the stairs and in a second Ruth's cheery voice greeted them with a "Hello!" from the hall. "Well, this is a surprise. I didn't expect to see you till to-night, Dorothy. Have I you to thank for bringing her to me?" she asked, smiling at Jim. "Yes, I guess so," replied Dorothy. "We came on business." "On business!" echoed Ruth. "Yes, on business," answered Jim. "It's just this: You see I have taken a position in New York and I have to board here. We didn't know of any place and Aunt Betty thought of something you had said the night before about boarding-house meals." "Yes," continued Dorothy, "and I called Mr. Ludlow up and he recommended this place and we came right down here, and we have just fallen in love with the place at first sight. Haven't we, Jim?" "Wait. Let me see. You want to see Mrs. Quarren. She is out just now, but she is such a dear. I know! You must both stay to lunch. It is just eleven forty-five and we lunch here at twelve. You see so many of the boarders here do not come home at noon-time, they work too far to come back, so that there will be plenty of room. And then you can see how the table suits you. Mrs. Quarren is always in for meals. You see she is just a great dear mother to us all. I won't know what to do without her." "I will lend you Aunt Betty when you are with us," volunteered Dorothy. "But we must let her know we are going to stay here for lunch." "I'll telephone her if you will show me where the 'phone is," spoke up Jim. "Right this way, please," said Ruth, leading Jim into the hall where he saw the little table and 'phone. "Come back to the parlor when you are through," and Ruth went back to Dorothy. "You are to play to-night, are you not?" she inquired. "Yes, and are you to sing?" questioned Dorothy. "Right after you play. We are each to do just one thing to-night. I am going to sing 'Still vie de Nochte,' or in English, 'Still as the Night,' you see it's just a little German song. What are you to play?" asked Ruth. "I thought I was to play two selections--Mr. Ludlow said so----" started Dorothy. "Yes, dear, you were," interrupted Ruth, "but he changed his mind after I had coaxed him and he has consented to let me sing so we each can have one number then." "Well, then I will play that old medley, 'Southern Airs.' I like that best of all. It makes me think of home," answered Dorothy. "And I always can just fairly see old Bellevieu when you play that piece," added Jim from the doorway. "Aunt Betty said it was satisfactory, and that she and Alfy would go out this afternoon and for you to come home soon and practice." Just then the luncheon bell sounded and the three went quickly down stairs. They were seated at a small table near the window. Ruth always sat there and as the other guests at that table were never present for luncheon, Dorothy and Jim could sit there too. So the three had the little table all to themselves. Just as soon as she could, Mrs. Quarren came over to the table, for she had returned from her duties outside. Ruth presented Dorothy and Jim to her, and as she sat pleasantly chatting, Jim told her of his want. She said she would see him after dinner in the library. "Well, Dorothy, you come to my room with me while Jim sees Mrs. Quarren in the library," said Ruth, rising and carefully pushing her chair back under the table. "You are very kind. I would like to see your room. You lead and I will follow," answered Dorothy. "Oh, the room is not much. You come too, Jim, and I will show you where the library is," said Ruth, leading the way upstairs. "Right in there, Jim." Jim entered the library and the girls ascended to the floors above. "I am going out this afternoon with a friend," said Ruth. "I promised I would go shopping with her," and she opened the door of her room. The room was a large, sunny one with simple furnishings. "I'll sit here," announced Dorothy, "till you are ready to go." "I will just hustle with my things and be ready in a moment," replied Ruth, suiting her actions to her words. In a very few minutes the girls were ready and slowly descended the stairs again to wait for Jim in the parlor. "Well, here I am. Room engaged and all," said a cheery voice from the hall which they knew as Jim's. "Where is it?" questioned Ruth. "Yes, where?" echoed Dorothy. "Where do you suppose?" mocked Jim. "Well, I will tell you. Ruth it is your room." "My room!" exclaimed the girl. "Yes, your room," laughed Jim. "I am to have it next Wednesday. Mrs. Quarren said you were to leave it Tuesday." "Tuesday!" interrupted Dorothy, in a very much surprised tone of voice. "Yes, dear, Tuesday. Didn't Mr. Ludlow tell you?" added Ruth. "Tuesday we go to Washington on the noon train." "Ah, is it so soon? I didn't know it. It makes me feel so sad. I hate to leave New York now, just as I am becoming used to it," wailed Dorothy. "Oh, I just must go back to the hotel. I have to practice and it is getting late." "Come on, Dorothy," said Jim, rising and walking to the door. "Good-bye till to-night," said Dorothy. "Good-bye, dear, till to-night," answered Ruth. With that Dorothy and Jim made their departure for home. The way back was rather quiet, for the news that the girls were to start so soon had made Jim sad. And Dorothy couldn't help but feel the same way. When at last they had silently reached the hotel and had gone up to the rooms, Dorothy spoke. "Jim, do you want to stay here and be my audience while I practice and tell me what you think of my playing?" "Yes, indeed I do," answered Jim, gladly grasping the opportunity to be near the girl, and when he had seated himself in a great chair added, "I'll be more than audience, I'll be newspaper reporter and a very exacting and critical one at that. And then, when you finish I will tell you what I would put in the paper about you and your playing." "That's a bargain," answered Dorothy, taking her violin in hand. "I will start right now." So saying she commenced playing slowly at first, anon faster and faster, then again more slowly that beautiful composition, "A Medley of Southern Airs," putting all her love and yearning for her own southern home into the effort. Jim from his chair by the window could picture each phase of the piece, and when she had finished with the beautiful sad strains of "Home, Sweet Home," he could hardly control himself, and man that he was, he could not keep the tears from his eyes. For a brief moment neither spoke. Dorothy laid down her violin and came over to him. Jim arose and took both her hands, saying softly, "Dorothy girl, it was wonderful, but it makes me so sad. I just can't bear to think of parting from you." "Jim, dear, you too feel sad?" she questioned softly, but withdrawing her hands. Jim let the little hands slowly drop but took her by the shoulders, looking eagerly into her eyes. "You will miss me?" he questioned, "really miss me?" "Of course I will, dreadfully so," she answered. Then without a word of warning he drew her gently to him and kissed her full on the lips. For one brief moment they clung together, then Dorothy withdrew his arms. "Jim, oh, Jim! what have you done?" she sobbed. "Girl, I just couldn't help it," answered Jim, gently drawing her into his embrace again. "Dorothy, little Dorothy, didn't you know before? Couldn't you guess?" "Jim, dear, I never thought of you that way, and it's so new and strange. I can't realize it all." And with that Dorothy rushed away and into her own room. CHAPTER VIII. "AMERICA." Just before dinner Dorothy came slowly from her room into the sitting room where she found Jim all alone, seated in the same large chair by the window. She had dressed this evening with much care and wore a white dress with blue ribbons at her waist. She had also fixed her hair differently and more in the prevailing fashion. The girls of New York she had noticed wore their hair "up," and as Dorothy was eighteen, she thought she too must dress it like they did. So carefully this afternoon did she arrange it, with three little curls at her neck and a tiny curl just peeping out at each ear. It made her look a little older and very fascinating indeed. Decidedly Jim so thought, as he turned to look at her as she entered the room. "Come here and sit down. I want to talk to you just a few minutes, dear," he said, drawing up a chair close to his for her. Dorothy obeyed, as some way she always was accustomed to obeying this boy, although he was really only five years older than she was. "What is it you want to say?" she asked, seating herself leisurely. "It's about what happened this afternoon," Jim began, and hesitated, hardly knowing how to continue. Looking at Dorothy he thought that she too had changed since the afternoon; she seemed more fair, more grown up, as if she had become a full grown woman instead of a child. "Dear, I am sorry for what I said and did. I can't make any excuses, I just lost control. The thought of your going away maddened me. I can't help loving you, caring for you. I have done that now for years. I didn't mean to speak to you until I had made good. And now I have spoiled it all by my recklessness," he added, bitterly. Then quickly changing his tone of voice to a more cheerful one, he continued: "Dear, never mind, we can be the same old friends again, can't we?" "Yes, and no, Jim," quietly responded Dorothy, who had already felt a complete change that before she didn't realize and even now didn't understand. Jim seized her hands and asked hurriedly, "Could you love me? Could you? You don't know how much I would give for just one little word of hope. Don't leave me back here in New York, working, fighting, all by myself with no word of cheer. Answer me girl, answer me. Could you care, not as much as I do, now, but just a little?" "Jim, I do, a little," was all she could manage to say before she was seized eagerly in his arms again and having kisses showered upon her hair, cheeks and lips. "Jim, Jim, you are behaving shamefully and mussing me all up," she said, struggling to free herself, but she was held fast and stern tones pleaded, "I just can't let you go now. I just can't." "Jim, dear, you must or I won't even love you a little," she laughed. "Well, if I must, I must," he said, kissing her just once again. "My girl, my own girl," he added. "Jim, I haven't promised you anything, and I just said I cared for you a little. I'd have to love you a lot before I could promise you anything. You mustn't call me yours. If, when I come back from my trip, and that's a long time from now, I do love you----" added Dorothy. "You will promise me then? You will? Oh girl, you make me so happy, so happy!" cried Jim. "I will work so hard all winter and save up so much. I have considerable saved up now. Then you will come to me, girl?" "I said if I did love you then," teased Dorothy, "and that's if----" "You little tease," interrupted Jim. "I will punish you." "No you won't," Dorothy added quickly. "And never, never say anything of the kind to me again, or even try to love me, or I'll just never, never love you. I have my music to attend to and you mustn't disturb my practice or even try to make me think of you when I should be thinking of it." "Very well," acquiesced Jim, sadly, "it will be very hard though. I'll promise if you will write me every day while you are away." "Every day!" exclaimed Dorothy. "Not every day. I wouldn't know what to say." "All you would have to say to me would be, 'I love you,' over and over again," laughed Jim. "But I can't, cause maybe I don't," teased Dorothy, "but I'll write sometimes." "Sometimes," complained Jim, mournfully. "Sometimes is better than never," laughed the girl. "Very well. I'll hope that sometimes is very often or nearly every day," said Jim. "Kiss me once more, then I won't bother you again." Then folding her to him he kissed that dear, dear face and thought of the many times he used to blush and show all kinds of discomfort when Dorothy kissed him of her own free will, and then he remembered Gerald Beck's comments that any fellow would go a long, long way to kiss Dorothy. And thinking of the difference now, he drew her closer as she was drawing away, and turning her head back, kissed her on the brow and then she slowly turned and walked to the table, picking up her violin and played. While she was playing Aunt Betty and Alfy came in. They sat down quietly so as not to disturb her. Dorothy finished her piece and then came over and kissed her aunt, saying, "Dear Aunt Betty, have you and Alfy enjoyed yourselves?" "Oh, yes indeed, dear. We took a stage up to Ninety-sixth street, through to Riverside Drive and then back again," answered Aunt Betty. "And what did you think of it, Alfy?" asked Jim, turning to the girl. "I just couldn't keep my eyes off the crowds of people walking up and down Fifth avenue, all of them dressed up as if they were going to church, and Aunt Betty said they were all going to tea at the hotels--afternoon tea--and men too. Why, I saw a lot of men and they were all dressed up too, and had on some of those yellow gloves and carried canes. And all the ladies carried silver chain purses or bags. Ah," and Alfy heaved a great sigh, "I wish I had a silver bag; they make you look so dressed up. Then there were so many, many stores and such nice things to buy in all of them. I would like to be rich just for one day and then I could buy all I wanted. I would get--oh, I just couldn't tell you all I would get. I saw so many things I just wanted so bad." And I guess Alfy would have continued indefinitely if the telephone bell had not interrupted her. Dorothy answered the call and turning to Aunt Betty, said, "Aunt Betty, dear, Ruth wants to know if I can take dinner with her and Mr. Ludlow at the Hotel Astor at six o'clock, so we can go to the Hippodrome real early and find out our places before the concert starts." "Certainly, if you wish it," answered Aunt Betty. So Dorothy returned to the telephone and continued her conversation with Ruth and when finished hung up the receiver and turned again to Aunt Betty, saying, "Ruth said for me to hurry and dress and they--Ruth and Mr. Ludlow--would call for me--about six o'clock. What shall I wear?" "The little pink dress, dear; that is quite pretty and most appropriate for the occasion," answered Aunt Betty. "I am tired, so Alfy will help you. Besides, I want to talk to Jim." "Oh, Aunt Betty," interrupted Dorothy. "I forgot to tell you that this afternoon while we were at Ruth's, we learned of the fact that we start on our trip on Tuesday--the noon train for Washington. Jim can tell you all the rest while I dress." "And did you get a room there where Ruth is, Jim?" questioned Aunt Betty. Whereat Jim told of his arrangements, discussing the matter till Dorothy returned. "Take your violin, dear, and hurry. The 'phone is ringing now and I guess that is them. Yes, it is," said Aunt Betty, answering the call. "Good-bye, all, for just a little while. You all be early," called Dorothy, as she left the room. After a remarkably fine dinner at the Hotel Astor, which the girls enjoyed immensely, they all drove to the Hippodrome. Mr. Ludlow led the girls inside and showed them where they were to sit while they waited for their turn to play or sing. There were many, many people in a large room and Mr. Ludlow told them they were the artists and their friends, but that presently all that were to take part would meet in the room where the girls were. He left them there for a few minutes and went away to find out if they had been given their places on the list. He found their numbers were five and six, Ruth being five. He came back, told the girls this and then left them to themselves till their turns came. They sat still, not saying much but enjoying all the people about them,--some of them seemed to them so queer. Finally it was Ruth's turn to sing. Slowly she got up, walked to the entrance and on the stage. She rendered her simple song, "Still vie die Nochte" very well, and amid a volley of applause, left the stage. She could not give an encore so she simply walked to the front again and bowed. Dorothy, listening, had heard all and was preparing for her task, tuning her violin. Just then Ruth, returning, whispered in her ear, "Good luck," as she passed her. Dorothy turned and smiled at her new friend, and then proceeded forward to the stage, violin in hand. One brief glimpse she caught of the crowded house, and she thought she had never seen so many, many people before. The Hippodrome is very large, the stage being one of the largest in the world, and the seating capacity being many thousands. So you see there were a great number of people there. The house was over-crowded, as naturally every one was interested in the home for blind babies, and the talent of the evening had called forth a very large attendance. Slowly Dorothy raised her violin and started the initial strain of the melody. The beautiful "Southern Airs" appealed to many, as there were a large number of southerners present that night. Played by the beautiful girl, it made the old go back in memory to days that were the happiest in their lives. They longed for the South; the large plantations, the beautiful gardens, the spacious, old, rambling houses, the darkies playing on their violins in the moonlight, the cabins with the little pickaninies disporting in front--all of these and more dreams floated vividly before them, inspired by the wonderful music. Then softly, very softly the music fell from the violin, the sweet strains of "Dixie," when suddenly a piercing shriek, another, still another, rent the air. People turned pale. Some started to rise from their seats. A woman or two fainted. Then another and more awful shriek, which sounded as if some one was being murdered. The people in their seats hesitated! Was it fire? Was someone being robbed, or murdered, or what? In a single second a great restlessness took possession of them all, tending to make of the crowd an angry mob, and panic a possible result. Dorothy from her place on the stage for a moment was rooted immovable to the spot. She looked in the direction from which the screams came and saw a man throw up his hands and shriek again. It was the man who played the trombone in the orchestra. He threw his instrument in the air and turned as white as chalk, then stiffened out and began to froth at the mouth. In a moment she knew that the man had convulsions. She had somewhere seen someone in a similar state. The orchestra had suddenly stopped playing. Out in the audience she saw a sight that terrified her more than she would admit to herself. One thought raced through her brain. She, she alone might--nay must--prevent a panic; people were becoming more excited every moment. Instinct of some sort made her grasp her violin and raise it. Then she knew what to do. Without accompaniment, in clear, sweet tones she played "America." Slowly the people rose, rose to pay their respects to their national hymn, patriotism immediately conquering all fear. While she played the poor trombone player was carried out to receive medical attention. All through the three verses of the hymn Dorothy held the audience, and then as she finished and the curtain fell, the house broke out in thunderous applause, for now they realized what this girl had done, what possibilities she had saved them from. So insistent was the applause that Dorothy had to stop in front of the curtain again and again. CHAPTER IX. A DREAD CALL IN THE NIGHT. The next day Dorothy was ill as the result of the strain of the previous evening, and when Mr. Ludlow and Ruth called they found her resting on the couch in the living room. Ruth was eager to talk of the happenings of the night before, but Mr. Ludlow restrained her, saying: "Dorothy, I am very proud of you, and I want to thank you for what you did last night. The morning papers are full of the news of the events of last night, and now every place you go you will be doubly welcomed and given hearty receptions. It was a very good thing for us as it has given you advance press notices, which are superior and more convincing than anything I could put in for you. You will probably get all kinds of letters from people wanting you to play at private concerts, but keep them, my dear, as sometimes they come in very handy, and you never can tell when you can use them. "But for the present you must rest, that is, to-day and to-morrow. Tuesday we start on the noon train for Washington, so be prepared and on time. Ruth has much packing to do likewise, so we will go now and leave you to yourself." "Oh, can't I stay and talk?" interrupted Ruth eagerly. "There are so many things I want to talk to Dorothy about." "No. I guess you had better go home and pack up. You know I want you to go to church to-night. There is to be a musical service at St. Bartholomew's that I want you to hear," added Mr. Ludlow. "Can't we all go?" questioned Ruth. "I think Dorothy is better off home, here," rejoined Aunt Betty. "She had better stay here and rest, just for to-day. Then you see, she has to pack and shop a little to-morrow." "I would like to go," Alfy chimed in. "I just love church music, it is so grand, so very impressive and kind of awe inspiring." "All right," answered Mr. Ludlow, "suppose you do. You can bring Jim with you, if he would care to come." "I know I should enjoy the services very much," responded Jim, not very enthusiastically, but so long as he couldn't be with Dorothy he could sit there and think of her, and Alfy was so anxious to go it would be unkind to refuse. "Well, you two meet us there," said Mr. Ludlow, and turning to Ruth, "Come along, my dear." "Good-bye, all," said Ruth, and they departed. Dorothy and Aunt Betty stayed home as arranged, while Jim and Alfy attended church, returning to the hotel just as Aunt Betty and Dorothy were about to retire. "Oh, Dorothy," exclaimed Alfy, eagerly, "you ought to have gone, you missed such a lot. The music was so beautiful. I just know that an organ has locked up in those big pipes the finest music in the world. It's so solemn and impressive it most made me cry." "But you forget the wonderful singing," interrupted Jim. "They had a full choir, and the voices of so many young boys sounded like the voices of angels. And as they played the recessional and marched out, the singing grew softer and softer, and sounded as if it were coming from Heaven indeed." Dorothy did not say anything at this, but looked at Jim earnestly. "I am glad you enjoyed the services. Yes, the Episcopal services, I do think, are the most impressive of all denominations," said Aunt Betty. "Did you see Ruth and Mr. Ludlow?" asked Dorothy, turning to Alfy. She was afraid to look at Jim for fear of seeing something in his eyes she felt she had no right at that time to see. "Yes, we met them in time, and they both wished to be remembered to you and Aunt Betty, and hoped you were feeling rested now," answered Alfy. "Come, let's go to bed now, dears," said Aunt Betty. "We all have to do a lot to-morrow and must get up real early." With that they all retired to rest till the morrow. That at least was their expectation, but soon there was to materialize a different aspect to affairs. New York, even at night, is a noisy place, so it is little wonder that when the cries of "Fire," "Fire," rent the air, few heard and the few who did hear paid not much attention. But when someone knocked on Mrs. Calvert's door with a terrific thud, and yelled, "Fire! Fire! All out! Use stairs to the left!" all three, Aunt Betty, Dorothy and Alfy, were out of their beds with unhesitating promptness, and remarkably scared at that. "Fire! Fire!" rang through the air, and they could hear the bell-boys thump, thump, thump on each door. "Put on your slippers and kimona and come at once!" commanded Aunt Betty, suiting actions to her words. "Come, Alfy, Dorothy, this way out!" Very quickly, indeed, the girls, too bewildered to do much else but obey orders, followed close by, Alfy picking up her hat and a few other articles as she ran through her room. "This way, ladies," called the bell-boy. "This way. No danger, only it's best to get out. Use this stair." Aunt Betty and the girls quickly gained the stairs, and ran down as fast as they could, one after the other. On reaching the main floor they heard the call of another attendant. "All step outside and across the street." So they followed quietly on and outside till they stood on the opposite side of the street. There were assembled a couple of hundred people, mainly guests of the hotel, most of them more or less asleep and very scantily clothed in garments hastily assumed. Some of the women and children were sobbing, and most of them shivering. Looking up at the hotel, Dorothy tried to locate just where the fire was. She finally discovered a little flame and smoke curling up from the wing of the hotel, not where their rooms were, but far above, near the top floors. Quickly she ran her eye down and counted the floors, finding that the fire was on the tenth and eleventh floors. Suddenly it came to her that her priceless violin, her precious Cremona, was back there in their rooms on the seventh floor. Suddenly she slipped away from Aunt Betty and started toward the building. Swiftly she made her way through the crowd, and very quietly passed the firemen and bell-boys who stood about the entrance to the burning building. In a second she was past them, and on her way up the long stairs as she knew that the elevators were not running, and would not take her up if they were. She felt sure that she could get to the room and return with safety without being missed. In the meantime, Jim, who had not awakened at the first alarm, almost frantic at not being able to discover Aunt Betty and the girls, was wandering in and out of the crowd, scanning the faces of everyone very carefully, trying vainly to find the ones he loved best in all this wide, wide world. Suddenly a hand grasped his arm and a voice said, "Jim, Jim, we have been looking for you. Where have you been?" and Jim turned and saw it was Aunt Betty that spoke. "What do you think of the fire?" she continued. "Do you think it is going to be real serious?" "No. But one can hardly tell. I should judge that with the capable fire service that New York has, so fully equipped and strictly up-to-date, that they could get it under entire control with possible danger to only a couple of floors," answered Jim. "Then, maybe our floor will not be burned at all?" inquired Alfy. "I hope not," answered Aunt Betty. Just then Jim turned to look at the girl, for she stood directly in back of Aunt Betty, and catching sight of her he laughed outright. "Why, Alfy, what have you there?" he exclaimed. A funny sight, indeed, was Alfy, her little bedroom slippers of red just peeping out from under her bright pink kimona which she had slipped on over her night dress, and a bright red hat in her hand. "My hat," answered Alfy. "My best new hat. I saw it lying on the table so I picked it up as I passed. I couldn't bear to think of losing it. It's my favorite color and here it is." She placed the hat on her head and laughed as she did so. Aunt Betty turned and laughed, too, and so did many of the people around them. The girl looked funny indeed with the kimona and the hat. Her long, abundant growth of hair was braided down her back in two huge braids tied at the ends with blue hair ribbons which had long been discarded from day use. The red hat topping all looked as if the fire itself was there in their midst. "Great heavens!" exclaimed Aunt Betty, suddenly. "Where is Dorothy? Where is she?" Whereat faintness overcame her, and she dropped helpless upon the sidewalk. Jim caught and held her in his young strong arms, and carried her over to a chair that had been brought out of the hotel. Here he put her in the care of a young matron, who had kindly offered assistance, and was aiding Alfy. Being sure that she was safe and well cared for, he quickly began to look for Dorothy. In a few seconds he ran through the crowd, his heart sinking, as he could not locate her anywhere. Then he thought she might have gone back to the burning building. The thought of her, the girl he loved, up there in that dangerous place nearly drove him frantic. Quickly he rushed past the fire lines, yelling to the policemen who would have delayed him perhaps, when every moment was precious. He must find her. His Dorothy must be saved. "There is someone in there I must save!" he shouted to those he passed. He hurried on and ran into the building. First he went toward the elevator, but seeing no one there, turned and ran for the stairs. Quickly he mounted them quickly--indeed he ran! Up those seven long flights of stairs he went with an energy he never called forth before. As he neared their floor he saw that the fire had in some few places broken through to the seventh floor, and realized that he could go no higher, and had but a few moments more. "Dorothy! Dorothy!" he called out. He thought he heard a very faint answer from her and rushed madly onward. He could not see, and was choked by the thickening smoke. Finding his way into the bath room he opened the window, then he picked up two large towels and hastily wet them with cold water. One of those he wrapped about his head, and then he called again. She answered faintly, and then he found the girl, her precious violin in her hands. She choked with the smoke, and was all out of breath from her long race up the many flights of stairs. "Jim," she sobbed. "I just had to get this. I couldn't leave my violin up here," and fell into his arms. "Come girl," said Jim, sternly. "Here, put this around your face, so," and he carefully adjusted the wet towel he had provided for the purpose. "Now, follow me, and give me your hand." Just outside the doors the smoke was very dense. "Lay down and creep!" ordered Jim, "and give me your violin." He took the violin and forced Dorothy down and beside him so that their heads would be close to the floor. As you doubtless know, smoke rises, and the place freest from smoke would be the lowest possible one. Thus they crept until they reached the stair. "Stand up, now," commanded Jim, "and take the violin again." Then he took her in his arms and rapidly made his way down, till they had passed the zone of danger. Here for one brief moment he held the girl in his arms, murmuring lowly, "Thank God, darling, you are safe now." Then they quickly made their way to the place where he had left Aunt Betty and Alfy. There sat Mrs. Calvert, pale but calm. On seeing her, Dorothy rushed into her aunt's arms, and explained, "Dear Aunt Betty, I just went back after my violin. I couldn't let it stay in there and get burned. And Jim came after me and saved me." "Dear, dear child, don't you know how foolish that was to do? Why you are far more precious to me than any violin, no matter how priceless it may be." Just then they heard a voice calling the crowd to attention. It was the manager of the hotel, making an announcement. He told the people that while the firemen had the fire well in control, it was considered safest for none of the guests to return to their rooms until the morning, when it would be entirely safe. The Hotel Breslin, he informed them, would accommodate them for the night, and was but a few doors away. The people began to follow his instructions at once, and the clerks at the Hotel Breslin were soon very busy apportioning rooms to them. All were very shortly trying to overcome their worries sufficiently to enable them to regain the sleep they had lost. The fire had been caused by the carelessness of some of the servants of the hotel in dropping lighted matches on the floor, the servants' apartments being in the top of the building. It was therefore hoped that little damage had been done to the property of the guests. CHAPTER X. THE LOCKET. The next morning, quite late, for it was nearly ten o'clock, Aunt Betty and the two girls arose. The hotel people had arranged to have the breakfasts sent up to all the unfortunate ones, and otherwise made them as comfortable as possible. The trio breakfasted and Aunt Betty suggested, "Dorothy, dear, I think it would be a wise idea to telephone over to the hotel and find out if any of our things were left unharmed by the fire, and ask, too, if we might come back there now." "Yes, Aunt Betty," answered Dorothy, as she started for the 'phone. She talked over the wire for several minutes, then returning to her aunt and Alfy said, "They say that some of our things have not been spoiled at all, but that the rooms are a complete wreck, because the firemen broke all the windows when they stopped the fire at that point. We have been given a suite on the second floor, and all the things which belong to us have been moved down there." "Ah," interrupted Alfy. "I am so glad there are some things left. I was afraid we would have to go about all day in blankets and look like Indian squaws." "No, indeed," answered Dorothy. "They are going to send us in our coats, so that we can get to the carriage that they have placed at the disposal of the guests and be driven right to the door." "They have certainly tried to be as considerate as possible to all their guests," said Mrs. Calvert. "Here," said Dorothy, answering a loud knock at the door, "here are our coats now." "Come, let us see what we have left, for I feel sure that we will have to hurry and get more clothes for you girls if we have to start for Washington very soon," rejoined Mrs. Calvert. They all slipped on their outer garments, and very quickly were carried downstairs by the elevator. They hurried into their carriage and very soon were located in their new suite of rooms. "Oh, just look, Aunt Betty!" exclaimed Dorothy. "See, the trunks we packed last night with all our good things are all right. The water never leaked through at all." "That saves us a good deal of trouble and expense, doesn't it? I certainly thought that all three of us would have to be fitted out entirely again. I am very, very glad that we were so fortunate," answered Aunt Betty. "Oh, dear!" exclaimed Alfy. "Oh, dear, just see! Isn't it too bad that I didn't stay home and pack instead of going to church with Jim last night. All I have in my trunk is the two white dresses you made me at Bellevieu before we started on the trip, and my raincoat. Oh! Oh! Oh! And I forgot all about it. I intended to show it to you right away as soon as I reached Bellevieu. I begged Ma Babcock so for it, and then to think I clean forgot it! Ah, she will be so disappointed to know I forgot it." "Why, Alfy child," remonstrated Aunt Betty. "What are you talking about? There now, calm yourself and tell me." "It's this," replied Alfy, holding up a piece of linen about a foot square, "this sampler. I found it in an old box in the closet of the spare room Ma had fixed up in the barn, when I was searching for my raincoat just before I left home. Ma said a school friend, a little Baltimore girl who was 'up Mounting' summering, and who fell ill and stayed all winter and went to school with Ma, made it for her." And Alfy handed the square of linen to Mrs. Calvert. Aunt Betty took it up and carefully examined it while Dorothy looked over her shoulder and tried to see it too. "Why," exclaimed Mrs. Calvert, "this is beautiful work! Just beautiful! And what is the name? Dorothy dear, will you see if you can find my glasses? I put them in my work bag, which I put in the tray of the trunk. Yes, way down in the right hand corner." Dorothy crossed over to the trunk and immediately found the desired bag, and opening it took out the glasses. "Here they are, Aunt Betty," she said, handing them to her. Aunt Betty put the glasses on and proceeded carefully to examine the sampler. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I have it now! The name is in this corner, and as far as I can make it out is 'Hannah.' 'Hannah' something. 'Morrow.' Maybe that's it." "Let me see," interrupted Dorothy, "maybe I can make it out. I think the first letter is 'W,' not 'M,'" and turning to Alfy, "what did Ma Babcock say about the name?" "Ma said that it was Hannah somebody, and that she was a poor sickly girl. She lived in Baltimore and married a man who did not treat her well, and died shortly after. I forget what she said her last name was. But she said she married a man whose name was 'Halley' or 'Haley,'" answered Alfy. "Oh, Aunt Betty, I have it!" exclaimed Dorothy joyously. "I have it! It's 'Woodrow,' 'W-o-o-d-r-o-w, Woodrow.'" "Yes, that's it. I recollect, now, ma saying, 'Hannah Woodrow,'" chimed in Alfy. "I wonder," said Aunt Betty, slowly, for she had been thinking, "I wonder if it could be? You see, little Lem, Lem Haley, had no mother or father, and just lived with his uncle, who abused him terribly. It was he we found that night in the forest when we were camping. Do you think it could be possible that this sampler was made by his mother? Poor, unfortunate woman." "Maybe we have some clue to work on now," said Dorothy. "Wouldn't it be odd if it was his mother who made this sampler? She could sew well if it was, for there are many hard and difficult stitches in that." "And," added Alfy, "Ma said she was a rich girl; her folks had lots of money, 'cause she dressed so nicely. And they paid Grandma Brown good board, so ma said." "May I have the sampler, Alfy?" asked Mrs. Calvert. "Yes, indeed," answered Alfy. "Ma Babcock said for me to give it to you, as maybe you would be interested in it." "I am going to take it to my lawyer and see what he says about it. You say you think that Mrs. Haley, or Hannah Woodrow, is dead?" added Aunt Betty. "Yes, ma said that she had not heard from her in so long that she was sure that the poor unfortunate lady was dead," answered Alfaretta. "I have felt all along that there was some dreadful catastrophe or mystery about little Lem. His uncle was such a hard, cruel man, and little Lem knew very little or nothing about his early life or parents. All that he knew was that he was bound out to this harsh and cruel man whom he called uncle, and made to work very hard, too hard, indeed, for a child, for his board," remarked Aunt Betty. "I do hope we can find out something about his people. He is such a good boy, and now he goes to school and he is such an apt pupil," added Dorothy. "Come now, we must dress and arrange our things and see what we need. You girls please dress as quickly as possible and each make out a list of what you have lost. In that way I can tell at a glance what is needed, and we can go shopping this afternoon. I will also send Jim to my lawyer with a note, and this sampler," remarked Aunt Betty. And they all hurried away to dress. Aunt Betty, finishing first, rang for Jim. Jim came to her and she said, "Jim, here is a sampler that Ma Babcock had and let Alfy bring to me. It was made by a girl named Hannah Woodrow, who married a man named Haley, who was cruel to her. It is supposed that the unfortunate woman died. The girl was a Baltimore girl who spent a year with Mrs. Babcock's mother and attended school with Ma Babcock. She is thought to have been rich. I wonder if in any way she could have been related to little Lem Haley. We must try to trace up all facts and get to the bottom of things. I have written a letter, and I thought you would not mind taking it and the sampler to my lawyer." "Where is it?" asked Jim. "I will go gladly." "You go to Mr. Van Zandt, at 115 Broadway," replied Mrs. Calvert. "Give him the package and the letter and tell him I am going out of town to-morrow at noon to Washington, and that I will send him a complete route list later on as soon as all our plans are made." "All right," answered Jim, taking the package and putting the letter into his coat pocket. "I will not be back directly, if that makes no difference to you. I have a little shopping I should like to do this afternoon." So saying, Jim left on his errand. At Mrs. Calvert's suggestion the girls began making out a list of things that were missing so that they could replace them that afternoon if possible. Suddenly Dorothy rushed into the room where Aunt Betty was quietly seated reading and trying to collect her nerves that she said had been shattered by the experiences of the night before. "Aunt Betty, dear Aunt Betty, I can't find my locket!" she cried. "Alfy and I have hunted all over. We searched everything before we came to you with the news. We didn't want to bother you till we were sure that we hadn't merely mislaid it." "Are you sure, dear, you have looked all over everything you have?" questioned Aunt Betty. "Yes, and there is no trace of it anywhere," replied the girl. "And it's the only locket I have and has the pictures of mother and father in it. The only pictures we have of them." "Well, dear, don't let's give up hope yet. Let me go with you and look," answered her aunt. "Dear Aunt Betty, I am sure it isn't in there. I always wear it. You know I do. Ever since you gave it to me it has been my most cherished possession," bewailed Dorothy. "No, it isn't anywhere in there," said Alfy, decidedly, walking into the room at that moment. "I, myself, have searched everywhere, and you know how thorough I am, Mrs. Calvert." "Maybe it's upstairs in our old rooms," suggested Aunt Betty. "They might have mislaid it." "I will ring for a maid and then Alfy and I will go up with her and look," answered Dorothy, immediately acting on the suggestion. "It must be up there, dear, as everything else came down safely, and all my jewelry is intact," added Mrs. Calvert. "I do hope it is. It has given me such a scare," rejoined Alfy. "Come along, Alfy; we are going up now," said Dorothy, as the maid appeared in answer to her summons. "We'll be right down, Aunt Betty." And with that the girls departed. In a few moments they came back, and by just glancing at them Aunt Betty knew that the quest had failed. "No, it is nowhere there," said Dorothy sadly, "nowhere there." "Ring for the manager, dear, and I will see him and see what he suggests doing. The locket is of no value to anyone else. Its main value is in the pictures. I am very sorry I have no other copy of them. I have a picture of your father when he was younger, a mere boy at our Baltimore home, Bellevieu, but I never had another picture of your mother, dear," said Aunt Betty. The manager came now in response to their call, and Aunt Betty told him of the loss of the locket, and wherein its value lay. He was very sorry indeed to hear of the loss, but felt hopeful that he could restore the locket to them in the course of an hour or two. Dorothy turned to Aunt Betty as the manager left the room, and flung herself weeping into her lap. "Dear, dear child," soothed Aunt Betty, "don't be foolish, dear. There are still hopes of its being found." "But they are the only pictures I ever had of them," bemoaned the little girl. The dear old lady took the young girl in her arms and comforted her with hopeful suggestion and loving words of encouragement. CHAPTER XI. THE TOUR BEGINS. On his way downtown, Jim paused in front of Lebolt's on Fifth avenue, one of New York's biggest jewelry houses. The windows were full of attractive pieces of jewelry. One thing in particular caught his eye, a little pendant of gold and pearls. He thought at once of Dorothy and wanted very much to give her something--something nice because of the previous day's happenings--something that would help her to remember him very often--a little token of his regard. He went inside and inquired of a clerk where he could see pendants, and was directed to a near counter. He was shown many, and after having quite a hard time choosing which he liked best at a price he could afford to pay he finally decided on a little bunch of grapes formed of a cluster of pearls, with the leaves and vine of gold hung on a slender chain--altogether a very dainty and appropriate gift. And he left the store thinking of how he would present this to Dorothy, for he wanted no one to know of his reasons for giving it to her but himself--and she. Taking a car he soon came to the vicinity of the lawyer's office and looking over the bulletin at the entrance he located a sign with his name upon it. On reaching a small outer office he asked of a pleasant faced girl sitting there, "Can I see Mr. Van Zandt? I have a package and letter to deliver to him personally." "Mr. Van Zandt," answered the girl, "is just now very busy. He is conferring with another lawyer, and I cannot disturb him, as he left word that on no account and for no one should I bother him. He will not be much longer, and if you would care to wait for a half hour, I am sure that you could see him then." "I will wait," said Jim in reply. The girl then showed him into a little library off to one side of the office where there were some easy chairs. Picking out one that looked particularly comfortable to him he took up a magazine from the well laden table, and seating himself started to read. After waiting half an hour or more, he was finally admitted into a room wherein sat Mr. Van Zandt, at a desk strewn entirely with legal papers. "Mr. Van Zandt, I am from Mrs. Calvert. She sent me here with a letter and package for you," said Jim. "Most opportune, most opportune," answered Mr. Van Zandt, gravely, taking the letter and package from Jim. "Excuse me, young man, excuse me, while I see what Mrs. Calvert has to say," he added, breaking the seal of Aunt Betty's letter and slowly reading its contents. "Ah! So you are the Jim she speaks of in the letter, and says I may question concerning these matters?" "Yes, indeed," responded Jim. "Is there anything you would like to ask me?" "No. Not that I just think of now. But I have a little story to tell you. Listen carefully and see if you can repeat the same to Mrs. Calvert, when you see her later this afternoon," replied Mr. Van Zandt. "This was told me by a fellow colleague, the man you no doubt saw leave this office as you entered it. Strange how things come about. Long years ago there was an English family named Winchester, a father and mother and six children, four of them girls and two boys. The parents were very strict with their children, and one boy, the oldest, ran away from home, and was never heard of by the old people again. The youngest girl had a very pretty love affair, but because her parents disapproved, and I believe they would have disapproved of a saint from heaven if he wished to marry their child Marrie, she took the vows and became a sister. Two died very young, and the other two daughters lived to be old maids, and in time all died. "The runaway son married, so much we have learned, and had one very beautiful daughter, who after, mother fashion, also ran away and married. The daughter's name was Dorothy Winchester. The man she married was a Calvert. These two died early deaths, leaving behind, so 'tis said, a little daughter named after the mother, Dorothy Winchester Calvert." "Our Dorothy," whispered Jim. "Now, it seems to me that Mrs. Calvert was sister-in-law to the Calvert that married the beautiful Dorothy Winchester. And from what I know, Dorothy Calvert, Mrs. Calvert's ward, is the child of the former two. But as a large estate, consisting of much property in England and a great deal of money, is left to the heir or heirs of this Dorothy Winchester, we shall have to have legal proof that this girl is the right child. And when the right proof is found, my colleague will turn over to me the various papers and deeds to the estate. And after proving herself the legal heir of this estate, Miss Calvert may have to take a trip to England to see the London solicitors and straighten matters out there. They have been working on this estate for many years now, and finally, but only recently traced the son to America. That is how things have come to this point now. Will you tell Mrs. Calvert and Dorothy that I would like to see them at their earliest convenience, bringing letters, pictures and any other form of proof they may have with them?" "I will tell them that, sir." "Very well. Good afternoon, young man, good afternoon," and Mr. Van Zandt closed the interview. Jim, after leaving Mr. Van Zandt, hurried back to the hotel, all the time thinking of the wonderful story he had to tell to Dorothy. He also wondered just how things would stand between them if Dorothy became a great English heiress. On reaching the hotel he went straight up to the girl's rooms and there found Dorothy weeping in Aunt Betty's lap. "I have such good news, such wonderful news," cried Jim. "I can't wait to tell you. Why, Dorothy, what has happened? Tell me," he added, catching sight of Dorothy at her aunt's feet, her face in her lap. Just then Dorothy smiled up at him and said, "Nothing. I was just a little foolish. Go on and tell us all your wonderful news. I would rather hear good news than tell sad, any day." "I have just come from your lawyer's, Mr. Van Zandt's, where I heard a most wonderful story. I gave him the letter and package. He read the former, and said he would give the matter attention. I had to wait for over a half hour. He was conferring with a colleague," continued Jim. "Oh, do hurry and get to the real story part," said the ever impatient Alfaretta. "Be still, Alfy. How can Jim tell us while you are talking?" commanded Dorothy. "To go on where I left off," continued Jim, "Mr. Van Zandt said that his colleague told him a story which he would tell me and which I was to repeat to you. "It seems that many years ago a family named Winchester had a large estate and plenty of money in England. They had children, and one, the eldest, ran away, came to America and married. He had a little daughter who grew up to be very beautiful. Her name was Dorothy Winchester." At this point in the story, Aunt Betty heaved a great sigh, and grew quite pale. "The beautiful young girl ran off with a handsome young man whose name was Calvert. And, Mrs. Calvert, the lawyer thought that to be your brother-in-law. The young couple suffered early deaths, leaving a child, a girl named after the mother, Dorothy Winchester Calvert. That, dear, is you," and Jim paused to see the effect of his words. Dorothy had risen, and coming to him, placed her hands in his and said, "Is this all true or just a joke?" looking eagerly in his eyes for the answer. "Yes," answered Jim, with an attempt at gaiety, "yes, all true." "Then do I understand that all Dorothy has to do is to prove she is Dorothy Winchester Calvert and she will come into this inheritance?" said Aunt Betty. "Yes. Mr. Van Zandt said for me to tell you that he would like to see you and Dorothy as early as possible in the morning, and for you to bring with you any proofs, such as letters, pictures, etc., which you have handy in your possession," instructed Jim. The word pictures immediately recalled to Dorothy her late misfortune, and she turned to Aunt Betty, saying, "Dear Aunt Betty, there is all my proof gone--the pictures in that locket. They would have been just what was needed, and now the locket is gone." "Why has the locket gone?" questioned Jim. "That is the sad news we had to tell you when you came in with the good news," said Mrs. Calvert. "Dorothy has either mislaid or someone has stolen her locket, the one I gave her with the pictures of her father and mother in it." "There," interrupted Alfy. "There is someone knocking. Maybe it is the manager returning with the locket. It's an hour since he said that he would have it back to Dorothy in that time." The manager entered and came over to Mrs. Calvert's chair, and said, "I am very sorry, madam, but I have not been able to recover mademoiselle's trinket. It is nowhere to be found. I have had three maids searched, three of them, who readily admitted going into the suite upstairs. The maids were very angry, and threatened to leave my employ. Nothing could be found. We have found no trace of it at all. All we can do, madam, is to hope. I will get a detective and have him try to locate the thief. Is it of great value?" "Just now we have had news that makes the locket of precious value. An estate, a large inheritance, hangs upon its recovery, as therein lies the only proof we have, or, I should say, did have," answered Mrs. Calvert. "We will do all we can," continued the manager, "and make every effort to restore the locket as quickly as possible." He then departed, and prepared to have the lost article traced without any delay. "I have my list of clothes and things that are missing and will have to be replaced all made out," said Alfy to Mrs. Calvert. "Very good," answered Aunt Betty. "Come into your room and I will look over your things and verify the list and see if you need anything else beside what you have written down." Alfy and Aunt Betty went off to see about the outlay necessary to replace the loss Alfy sustained from the fire. No sooner had they gone than Jim came over to Dorothy, looked into her eyes and said, "Girl, will this--this estate, make any difference--if the large fortune comes to you? I was so glad to hear the news, and be the one to tell you of it while I was there with Mr. Van Zandt, but somehow on my way back to the hotel I became sorry, sorry because it will mean that you will be a great English heiress, and I--I--" "You, Jim? You will always be my great big Jim," said Dorothy, with a sweet, sincere smile. "But isn't it too bad that the locket just disappeared when we needed it? And, fortune or no fortune, it's the only picture I had of my own mother." "Girl," said Jim, softly, taking the small purple velvet box out of his vest pocket, "I brought you this. It's only a little remembrance of what has gone between us. Just a little token of my eternal regard for you. I wish it could have been more." And he placed the little jewel box in Dorothy's hands. He watched her carefully, noting the pleasure in her face when she opened the box and saw the dainty pendant encased in the white satin. Carefully she drew it out. "Oh, what a beauty!" exclaimed the girl. "Jim, dear, you are so good and thoughtful. It's just as good and dainty as it can be, and far too good for me." "Let me clasp it around your neck for you," he replied. "I am glad you like it." But when he had his arms around the girl's neck, clasping the slender chain in place, Jim could not resist the temptation of drawing her close to him. She did not resist, so he held her closer for a moment in a fond embrace, and then raising her head, their lips met in a loving kiss. "My little girl," murmured Jim. "My dear little girl." Then releasing her he said, "I chose this pendant because I knew you would not accept a ring." Dorothy shook her head, but made no audible response. "Not until you have had plenty of time to know your own mind, but that you should have by the time you have returned from your trip. Then, Dorothy girl, you will give me my answer?" "Perhaps, Jim," whispered Dorothy. "Perhaps then I will." "Can't we keep the reason, the real reason, secret. We can have this one secret from everyone else, can't we? Tell them all it is a little parting gift from me. Then when you come back, girl, you can tell them, if you decide to--if you can love me enough. Until then it's our secret," said Jim. "I must go show it to Aunt Betty and Alfy. It's such a beautiful pendant I want everyone to see it," said Dorothy. "And I must get my things collected, for you see I have a lot to do. I wonder if I can prove anything without the locket." "Maybe they will accept Aunt Betty's word for things. But the hard part of it all is that you go away to-morrow for such a long trip," said Jim. "And, Dorothy, how I shall miss you! I won't know what to do without you." "Yes, you will," responded Dorothy. "You will have to work and work very hard at your new position." "Yes, indeed I will," laughed Jim, "very hard indeed. If I want to get married soon, I shall have to economize and save all I can." "Foolish boy," said Dorothy. "Good-bye; I am going to leave you here all, all alone," and she ran over to Jim, put her hands in his and looked up at him, saying, "You are a dear, good boy, and I shall prize my pendant highly, and wear it always, and when I do think of you." "That's all I could ask," answered Jim. "And, girl, please do take care of yourself and be careful all through this trip. I regret so much that I can't be along with you." "Dorothy! Dorothy!" called Aunt Betty, from the girl's room. "Yes, Aunt Betty, I am coming," answered Dorothy. As she left the room she threw a kiss with her dainty finger tips to Jim. That afternoon was spent in ordering things they all needed, and as time saving and convenient much was done by telephone. Then in trying on various things as they came all wrapped up in attractive bundles from the stores. Aunt Betty bought Alfy a complete new outfit, as her things were entirely ruined, and she was more than delighted with each new article. There was a plain gray suit, and one just like it for Dorothy. Alfy insisted that they would be mistaken for twins in them. And Aunt Betty ordered as a surprise to the girl a plain grey felt outing hat, which was to come in the morning. Dorothy had a few new shirt waists and a couple of pairs of slippers; also two new gowns, one pale yellow chiffon trimmed with a little gold lace; the other a very pale shell pink crepe de chine and shadow lace. These were for her to use on the stage, and at any private affairs that might come up. Alfy was very much pleased with a pale blue evening dress, as she had never had one before in all her life. This pretty little party dress was very simple, being made of pale blue chiffon over a shell pink satin slip, and the only trimming it had was one large rose of pink shade, catching the skirt in a dainty fold, and a few dainty pink rose buds edging the neck and sleeves. When she tried it on she ran carefully to Dorothy and exclaimed, "Dorothy, dear, just see my new dress! Isn't it wonderful? Do you like it? Do you think it is becoming? And look at these!" and she held up a new pair of pink satin slippers, and gloves to match. Dorothy laughed gayly, saying, "Dear, dear Alfy, they are beautiful things, and I have never seen you look quite so fine before." "I must show Jim," she answered. And off she went to the next room, where Jim sat thinking and dreaming. "What do you think of me?" she asked him. Jim looked up, saw Alfy, and said, "You look like a very fine young lady who has just stepped out of a picture." And he made a mental note of the fact that the girl had no ornament about her neck, and made a resolution to get up early and go out the next morning and buy Alfy a string of coral beads that he thought were just needed to finish her costume. These he would give Alfy for her parting gift. The next morning Jim carried out his purpose and bought the string of corals, pale pink, graduated beads, a string just long enough to go around the girl's neck. And for Mrs. Calvert he bought a set of collar and belt pins to match in heavy dull gold. These two gifts he labeled and sent up to them. He was busy that morning moving his possessions to Mrs. Quarren's so that he would be all ready to occupy his room there that evening. He was to meet Dorothy and the rest of her party at the Pennsylvania station at noon time. Mrs. Calvert, Dorothy and Alfaretta, as early as possible, went down to the lawyer's office. "Mr. Van Zandt will receive you in his room right away. He expected you," said the pleasant faced girl, as Aunt Betty and the two girls walked into the office. "Mr. Van Zandt, this is my ward and niece, Miss Dorothy Winchester Calvert and her friend, Miss Alfaretta Babcock," said Aunt Betty, introducing the two girls. "So you are the fortunate Miss Dorothy Winchester Calvert," the lawyer gravely said. "Let me see, little miss, how about the proof I must have? Proof is what is needed now. My colleague has to be satisfied. So do the London solicitors." "Until yesterday, Mr. Van Zandt, Dorothy always wore a locket around her neck in which were her mother's and father's pictures. We were unfortunately caught in a hotel fire, and some of our things were destroyed. This locket has been missing since the fire. The hotel people have since then done their utmost to trace the missing article, whose value now is priceless, and nothing has been seen of it. Detectives are now working on the case." "Most unfortunate--most unfortunate," commented Mr. Van Zandt. "Have you no other proof?" "There is my word, some old letters, and a picture of Dorothy's father taken when he was quite young, which I have at Bellevieu. I will send for them and have Jim bring them to you. In the meantime, he has promised to attend to the tracing of the locket, and will report to you about it," answered Aunt Betty. "I will let you know, too, Mrs. Calvert, how my colleague takes this news, and," added the lawyer, "I would like you and Miss Dorothy to sign a number of papers, and Miss Babcock can sign as a witness for Miss Dorothy." Before long they had all affixed their signatures to quite a number of important looking papers. Alfaretta felt very consequential and trembled visibly. This did not take long, and, bidding Mr. Van Zandt good-bye, they were soon hastening to the Pennsylvania depot, to await the coming of Jim, and the others of the troupe who were to travel with them. Dorothy hoped that Mr. Ludlow would not forget their private car, as she was anxious to see it. Aunt Betty was to have charge of it, Ruth, Alfy, and Dorothy being in her care for the entire trip. Alfy was slowly counting the minutes off. She wanted to thank Jim, as she thought more of the little string of corals than anything else in the world just then. They had pleased her beyond words. Dorothy was glad, too, because in giving Alfy the string of corals and Aunt Betty the pins it detracted from the strangeness of his giving such a lovely present to her. Aunt Betty and Alfy were both hearty in praise of Dorothy's new ornament, and commented on Jim's taste in selecting it. At the Pennsylvania station they found Jim waiting. "What did Mr. Van Zandt say?" he questioned, coming to meet them. "I have tended to your trunks, and put them and your suit cases in your private car. Mr. Ludlow and his gathering party are over in the other side of the station, and I will take you over to them in a few minutes." "We can't very well prove Dorothy's identity without that locket. It is most necessary for Mr. Van Zandt to have it. I told him," informed Mrs. Calvert, "that you would keep track of the search, and bring it to him immediately it is found. Also, Jim, I must write to Bellevieu and have some things, a picture of Mr. Calvert and one or two letters I have there, forwarded to you. Will you see that they are placed in Mr. Van Zandt's hands safely? We had to sign a great many papers. The trouble is in convincing Mr. Van Zandt's colleague and the London solicitors who have the property in their hands." "I will certainly do my level best," answered Jim, "to get the locket back, and will let you know of everything that comes up." Then they all walked slowly across the immense waiting room of the station, and in a far secluded corner found Mr. Ludlow and Ruth, among a group of chattering people, some old, some young, and Dorothy wondered just who belonged to the company and who did not. Mr. Ludlow came forward. With him was a tall, dark young man. "Mrs. Calvert," said he, "let me introduce Mr. Dauntrey. Mr. Dauntrey is our treasurer. This is Miss Dorothy Calvert, of whom you have often heard me speak, and her friend, Miss Babcock. Mr. Dauntrey, ladies." "I am sure I am very pleased to meet you all, and I am sure we shall all be firm friends before long," said Mr. Dauntrey, pleasantly, his eyes lingering longer on Dorothy than any of the rest. Just then Ruth rushed up to Dorothy and exclaimed, "Dear, dear Dorothy, I have been hearing wonderful tales about you--about how you saved your precious violin from the fire, and then were gallantly rescued by Jim, our new hero. Oh, tell me all about it! I am dying to hear it all from you! It must have been very thrilling. Oh, why is it I never get into any such wonderful adventures?" "I will tell you what little there is to tell when we get started on our trip. We shall have lots of time on the train," answered the girl. "Yes, indeed," said Ruth, "and I shall see that you do not forget your promise. Come over here and let me introduce you to some of the members of our company. I sing. You play the violin. That blonde lady over there, Miss Mary Robbia, has a wonderful contralto voice. The little girl over there, Florence Winter, is a dancer. She does all kinds of classical dances and is considered very wonderful. And Mr. Carlton is the pianist. He is the man standing over there talking to the lady in black." Dorothy looked at each person as Ruth pointed them out, and felt that she would enjoy her trip very much, for they all looked like nice, congenial people. Mr. Ludlow came up to her then and presented Mrs. Calvert, Dorothy and Alfy to all the members of the company, each in turn, Miss Robbia, Miss Winter and Mr. Carlton. They then all said good-bye to all their friends and relatives who had come to see them off, and hastened to board their car, which was to start in a few minutes. "Good-bye, my little girl," whispered Jim, kissing a stray lock of Dorothy's hair as he swung off the car. The car gave one jerk and then started out. The girls waved good-bye from the car windows till they could no longer see the ones they were leaving behind. It would take the remainder of the afternoon to reach Washington, and there they were to meet one or two more members of the company, and to learn of the final plans for the whole trip. CHAPTER XII. IN WASHINGTON. The train ride passed quickly enough, and just gave Aunt Betty time for a rest. Between intervals of reading, Dorothy told Ruth of all the previous day's happenings, and before they knew it they had arrived in Washington. Mr. Dauntrey came to Dorothy and volunteered to take care of their baggage. Aunt Betty had packed the suit cases for all three of them, so she gave him these, saying, "If you will have these in the hotel bus, Mr. Dauntrey, I will be obliged. We shall not get our trunk up to the hotel till late this evening, I heard Mr. Ludlow say." "What hotel do we stop at, Mr. Dauntrey?" inquired Ruth. "At the Willard, Miss Boothington," he answered, politely adding, "I will come back for your suit cases and tend to you in just a few seconds if you will wait in the car for me." "Thank you," the girl answered, going back into the car to gather her things together. "There, that is all, I guess, a bag, a hat box and one suit case. I can manage to exist with that much for a few days." "Come along. Just follow me," cried Mr. Ludlow, just loud enough for all to hear him. "This way. I want to get you all taken care of and over to the hotel as quickly as possible. I have made reservations and I hope everything will be ready at once for us." "Come Ruth," sang out Dorothy, as she and Aunt Betty and Alfaretta made their way after Mr. Ludlow. "Come or you will be left behind." "I promised I'd wait here for Mr. Dauntrey," answered Ruth. "He is coming back for me. My luggage is all here, and I can't manage it." "Very well, we will wait for you in the stage," answered Dorothy, and linking her arm in Alfaretta's, followed close after Mrs. Calvert, who was walking just in front with Mr. Ludlow. "There's Mr. Dauntrey," whispered Alfaretta. "He's with that little dancer, Miss Winters." "So he is," whispered Dorothy, "I hope he has not forgotten Ruth. Mr. Ludlow usually attends to Ruth himself; I wonder why he has not thought of her?" "Maybe he is provoked at her," answered Alfy, very softly so as the couple just in front would not hear them. "He looked at her real cross like, at the Pennsylvania station to-day. She was standing, talking very earnestly with Mr. Dauntrey, and Mr. Ludlow called to her twice and she never heard him." "Maybe that's why. But see, there he goes back. I guess he has gone after Ruth now," replied Dorothy. "Here we are. Now all get in. We must hurry," announced Mr. Ludlow. "Are we all here? Let me see--Mrs. Calvert, Dorothy, Alfaretta, Miss Winters, Miss Robbia and Mr. Carleton," as the pianist came in sight carrying two suit cases, "but where is Ruth? Ruth and Mr. Dauntrey, where are they?" "Mr. Dauntrey has just gone back after Ruth. She was gathering her luggage together as I left the car. Mr. Dauntrey said he would hurry back and get her if she would wait," answered Dorothy. Just then Ruth and Mr. Dauntrey came in sight. The girl held his arm and was looking up into his face, chatting pleasantly, while in back a porter, very much laden down with Ruth's belongings, trailed along after them. The occupants of the bus caught just then a sentence spoken by a passing couple. "See the little bride and groom here on their honeymoon." At these words Mr. Ludlow frowned deeply and looked very cross indeed. He spoke not a word to Ruth as she was handed into the bus by Mr. Dauntrey, but quickly got in and shut the door behind him. In a few minutes they had reached the hotel. Mr. Ludlow registered for the party and then the keys were supplied for the rooms assigned to them. Mrs. Calvert and the girls went quickly upstairs and dressed for dinner. The evening meal is always quite a function in Washington. The people for the most part dress in evening clothes. The hotels are almost always crowded with the government people, senators, representatives and officers of various degrees. Mrs. Calvert went down first and sent a card to Jim telling him of their safe arrival, then the girls joined her. Mr. Ludlow had arranged for a dinner party. They found some of the company waiting in the lounging room. Soon they were all assembled and Mr. Ludlow and Mrs. Calvert led them into the brilliant dining room where they all had a very gay dinner. Mr. Ludlow suggested that they visit the Library of Congress, as the evening was a very favorable hour for such a visit. At that time the beautiful interior decorations were seen to great advantage under the brilliant illumination. "Come, let us get our wraps," said Mrs. Calvert. "The building closes about ten and there is much of interest to be seen there." "Very well," answered Dorothy. "Do you want your black wrap? I will get it. You sit here." "Yes, dear. The black one," answered Aunt Betty, seating herself and waiting for Dorothy to return. "Come Alfy," called Dorothy, and the girls quickly disappeared down the long, brilliantly lighted corridor which was crowded with guests. They were gone but a few moments and returned with their wraps securely fastened and carrying Aunt Betty's. "Let me help you into it," said a cheery voice behind them. Turning, they saw, much to their surprise, Mr. Dauntrey. "Come with me. I have already secured a taxi, and it will just hold four. The others can follow." He took Mrs. Calvert's arm and gallantly helped her into the taxicab, then Dorothy, and then Alfaretta, each with the same niceness of manner. He then quickly got in himself, taking the one vacant seat beside Dorothy. He closed the door and off they started. The entrances to the library are in the front, facing the Capitol. A grand staircase leads up to the doorways of the central pavilion, giving access to the main floor. Up this staircase the quartette slowly climbed. "Just look!" exclaimed Dorothy, when they had reached the top. "Just look around. See all the lights of the Capitol over there. Isn't it all very beautiful?" "And look down at the fountain!" cried Alfy. "See how the sea-creatures are blowing water from their mouths, and in the centre 'Apollo.'" "No, if I may correct you, that is Neptune," said Mr. Dauntrey. "I have a guide book here. It is freely placed at your disposal, ladies." "I think every one that visits the Capitol should have a guide book," said Aunt Betty. "It adds immeasurably to one's pleasure. I have an old one at the hotel, and I have been looking it over. I read it through the last time I was here, not so many years ago. I do not recall the publisher's name." "The one I have here is Rand, McNally Company's," said Mr. Dauntrey. "And so was mine, I remember now, and it was fine, too," replied Aunt Betty. "Although that is not Apollo," said Mr. Dauntrey, "your mention of the name reminds me of a western politician who once visited here. He had great wealth, but little education, and when someone in his presence spoke of a statue of Apollo, he said, 'Oh, yes, I have one on my parlor mantle. On one end I have Apollo, and on the other, Appolinaris.'" "An amusing anecdote, and I don't doubt a real one," said Aunt Betty, laughing with the others, "but isn't that a wonderful old fountain? See the beautiful effects produced by the water as it is thrown in cross lines from all those miniature turtles, sea serpents and what not, that are supposed to populate ocean and stream." They stepped up the last tread and entered a long corridor, stretching along the front and forming an exaggerated vestibule. They gazed between piers of Italian marble supporting arches, an entrancing vista. In heavy brackets they noted pairs of figures, advanced somewhat from the walls, "Minerva in War," armed with sword and torch, and "Minerva in Peace," equipped with scroll and globe. Before these, greatly admiring them, the girls stood, and Mrs. Calvert said, "Dorothy, those are the most admired ornaments in the whole building, but you can see them again as you pass out. Come, let's go inside." "Yes, if you enjoy great art, Miss Dorothy," spoke up Mr. Dauntrey, "I will be pleased to personally conduct you through the Art Museum. Art, too, is my one hobby. To be happy I must always have the beautiful, always the beautiful." Passing on through the screen of arches, they entered the main hall, in the centre of which ran a magnificent stairway leading to the second floor and rotunda gallery. "Oh!" gasped Alfaretta. "Isn't the floor lovely? All little colored marbles. I hate to step on it. What is that brass disk for?" "Those little pieces of colored marbles are the essential materials for mosaic work, and the brass rayed disk is to show the points of the compass," said Mr. Dauntrey, kindly looking at the girl with an amused expression. "Look!" cried Dorothy, "over that way, way far back. See the carved figures?" "Yes," answered Aunt Betty. "The one thing the arch typifies is study. The youth eager to learn and the aged man contemplating the fruits of knowledge. It is a very famous group. I have a postcard picture of it that a relative sent me and I always remembered and liked it." "Here is something I always thought was interesting, on this side," said Mr. Dauntrey, leading them to the other side of the hall. "These two boys sitting beside the map of Africa and America. The one in the feathered head-dress and other accoutrements represents the original inhabitants of our country, the American Indian, the other, showing the lack of dress and the war equipment of the ignorant African. Then those two opposite, the one typifying the Mongolian tribes of Asia, the other in classic gown, surrounded by types of civilization indicating the pre-eminence of the Caucasian race in all things, such, for instance, as your chosen profession, music." "That would be a good way to study geography," said Alfy. "Then you would hardly ever fail if you had those interesting figures to look at." Aunt Betty then called their attention to the ceiling which was elaborately ornamented with carvings and stucco work with symbols of arts and sciences. The southern walls were full of rare and beautiful paintings, the most striking of these being, "Lyric Poetry," painted by Walker. It represents Lyric Poetry in an encompassing forest, striking a lyre and surrounded by Pathos, Beauty, Truth, Devotion, and playful Mirth. The east end of this hall which looks out on the reading rooms is reserved for Senators and members of the House of Representatives. It is decorated in subjects chosen from Greek mythology. "Come in here," said Dorothy, entering the periodical or public reading room. "See here, any one, no matter where he is from, can find one of his home papers." "Can any one stay here and read anything they want, and as long as they want?" inquired Alfy. "Yes. It is free to anyone," answered Mrs. Calvert. Next they passed into an exhibition hall, where in cases of glass made like a table they saw a great number of rare and curious books representing the beginning time of printing and bookmaking. There were a great many early printed Bibles and specimens of famous special editions of Bibles. Some of them, so they learned, dated back to the fifteenth century and were of much value on account of their rarity. One table in this room especially interested Dorothy. It contained manuscripts, autographs and curious prints relating to the history of our United States. The print room interested Alfy greatly. This room is devoted to an extensive exhibit of the art of making pictures mechanically. Here are a great series of prints illustrating the development of lithography, and the processes a lithograph goes through whether printed in one or in varied color. Also here are examples of every sort of engraving upon wood, copper and steel. About the walls hang examples of etchings and engravings. They then entered the Rotunda Galleries. They paused for a moment to look at two paintings there, one of Joy and the other of Sadness. "I like Joy the best by far," exclaimed Alfy. Joy, here, was represented by a light-haired, cheerful woman, amid flowers and happy in the sunshine. She went nearer the picture and read out loud the beautiful words of Milton's famous "L'Allegro." "Come thou goddess, fair and free, In Heaven ycleped Euphroysine, And by men, heart-easing Mirth. Haste thee nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful jollity, Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods and becks and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek." "I learned most of that poem by heart when I went to school at Oak Knowe," said Dorothy. "Indeed, and so did I," answered Mr. Dauntrey, "at school but not at Oak Knowe," he laughed. "But my favorite was the other poem, 'Il Penserose.'" "The other picture represents that," said Mrs. Calvert. "Listen while I recite to you the lines that inspired that picture," said Mr. Dauntrey, and in a wonderful voice he brought out each shade of meaning: "Hail, thou goddess, sage and holy! Hail, divinest Melancholy! Come; but keep thy wonted state, With even step and musing gait, And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in their eyes, There held in holy passion still Forget thyself to marble...." The stack rooms or apartments where the books are kept open out on each side of the rotunda. The cases rise way up to the roof and are filled with adjustable shelves. There are decks at intervals of every few feet from top to bottom by which the attendants reach the books. Each of these stacks will hold eight hundred thousand books, and although they may be consulted by any one, very few are ever lost, for only members of Congress and about thirty other officials can take books out of the library. "As there is a constant call for books of reference from the Capitol when legislators often want a volume for instant use, an underground tunnel has been made between the two buildings. This contains a cable carrier upon which books can be sent back and forth," explained Mr. Dauntrey. "But haven't you seen enough of the library now?" "There is Mr. Ludlow!" exclaimed Dorothy, "and I think he is calling us." "Yes, let us go over to him," added Mrs. Calvert. "Come." "Ah, here you all are," said Mr. Ludlow. "I called to you just now because there is one painting I would like to have you all see before you go upstairs to the restaurant." "Is it here?" questioned Dorothy. "No. You follow me and I will bring you to it in just a few seconds," answered Mr. Ludlow. "Here we are. I want you all to follow this series of pictures." "It is called the evolution of the book," added Mrs. Calvert. The series begins with a picture representing the means that the prehistoric men took to commemorate an event singly--the creation of the cairn, nothing more nor less than the piling up of stones. Then comes a picture illustrating oral tradition--an Arab story writer of the desert. The third represents an Egyptian carving hyroglyphics on a tomb. These are the forerunners and the next is picture writing, represented by an American Indian painting some tribal story or event. In lieu of paper he uses a skin. The fifth is shown by a figure of a monk sitting by the embrasure of his cell, laboriously decorating the pages of some sacred book of the Middle Ages. And finally, the initial attainment of modern methods is shown by a scene in the shop of Guttenburg, where the original printer is seen examining a proof sheet, while an employe looks over his shoulder, and another assistant has the lever of a crudely constructed press in hand. They all thought this series of pictures a beautiful one, and very interesting. Dorothy commented, "If they had not discovered how to print and make books, I wonder if we would have had a library like this one here, filled with stones all covered with hyroglyphics?" "I hardly think so," answered Mr. Ludlow, "for we could never get so much stone in a building. But come now. We will go upstairs to the little restaurant and sit down and rest for a few minutes." So taking the elevator they reached the restaurant which is located in the upper floor of the building, and finding a large table, they seated themselves. They ordered ice cream for the girls, and the men took lemonade. While refreshing themselves, Mr. Ludlow said, "I would like to see you all in the morning at ten o'clock. I will then disclose our plans to you for the next few weeks. Also, to-morrow, our number will be increased by three more singers who will join us here. They are Miss Dozzi and Mrs. Helmholz and Signor de Reinzzi." Every one said they would be on time in the morning, and started to go back to the hotel. On the way out from the library, Dorothy asked, "Mr. Ludlow, are all these pictures and pieces of statuary done by Italians and other foreigners?" "No, indeed," he answered. "The decorations are wholly the work of American architects, painters and sculptors, more than fifty of whom participated in the work. So that, you see, the library is an exhibit of the native art and ability of the citizens of the United States and a memorial to them." CHAPTER XIII. SIGHT-SEEING. The next morning they all hurried to the private sitting room of Mr. Ludlow's suite, where he had asked them to assemble. "Aunt Betty and Alfy," called Dorothy, "both of you must come too, so you can hear what Mr. Ludlow has to say, for you know you belong to the company, too." Ruth rushed up to Dorothy and whispered, "I think you were very mean, keeping Mr. Dauntrey all to yourself last night, and making me stay with Mr. Ludlow. He was so cross. I hope he is better natured to-day, or when we rehearse this afternoon we will all have trouble." "I didn't take Mr. Dauntrey," answered Dorothy in a very surprised tone of voice. "I didn't seek his company. He just took us and put us in a taxicab and that's all." "Sh!" whispered Ruth, "here he is now. Isn't he a handsome man?" "I don't particularly care for his style. He is too effeminate looking. Come over here and sit down by Aunt Betty and I," and Dorothy started to walk over to where the others sat. Ruth did not follow her, however, but remained just where she was. "And how is Miss Ruth, to-day?" inquired Mr. Dauntrey. "I am quite longing for our real work to start so I can hear you sing. I am sure it will be a great pleasure." Mr. Ludlow entered just then as Ruth looked up to Mr. Dauntrey, and murmured, "Ah, that was so nice of you to say." "Are you all here?" inquired Mr. Ludlow. "Let me take a little account of you." Mentally he ran over the small list of people. "All ready then. All sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I will only detain you a few minutes now. We are going to have a very important recital in the new National Theatre to-morrow night. I have a little typewritten letter for each of you. I will give these to Mr. Dauntrey and he will hand them to you." Turning to Mr. Dauntrey he handed him a number of white envelopes, saying: "There now, don't neglect to give each one the proper envelope." Turning once more to the rest of them, he continued, "If by any chance you don't happen to like the instructions contained in those envelopes, report at once to Mr. Dauntrey and he will take up the matter with me, or refer you to me." Mr. Ludlow had had many dealings with performers before, and he knew from experience that it was better to give instructions this way. It avoided open contentions which were likely when one artist thought he or she was slighted, and enabled each one to know exactly what they had to do, for there was no mistaking written orders. "The new National Theatre," continued Mr. Ludlow, "is on Pennsylvania avenue near Thirteenth street, and is of great capacity and comfort. I hope you will all do your best for I have written to the President, and have asked him to accept, as a token of our respect, a box for that night. I hope he honors us with his presence, and it may afford you all an opportunity to meet him personally. I expect this concert to be a big thing for us. This city is favorably disposed toward classical concerts, and Mr. Dauntrey has worked hard sending out special announcements for us. "I expect each of you to do your very best and look your very best. Always look your best. Looks go a great way. If people see you enter the stage confidently and look nice--nice and neat, not gaudy, not cheap or overdressed, just good simple dresses, and not made in outlandish styles--their first impression is very apt to be a lasting one. There, I think that is enough of a lecture. I plan to go from here to Pittsburgh, and, with several stops, on to Chicago. From Chicago on to St. Louis, and from there with a half dozen stops, if we are successful, to San Francisco. Just what we will do then I can't tell now. But I think that is enough to know now." "But what hotels are we to stop in at those places, Mr. Ludlow?" inquired Miss Winters. "I suppose all you fair ladies will want to have a list of the hotels in advance," laughed Mr. Ludlow, "and you shall have duplicate route lists with dates, which you can send to your friends so you can have mail each morning. I may want you to give two concerts here in Washington, but I am not sure yet," added Mr. Ludlow. "We also may have to run down to Mount Vernon and give a concert there, so I want you all to be ready to render something different than what you are to use to-morrow. You can each select your own piece. Is there anything now you want to ask me?" he said finally, turning so as to see them all. "Well," he continued, "if there is nothing else we will adjourn till this afternoon when I have made appointments with some of you to come here alone so that I may have an idea of how you are doing. If you all would care to, I think it would be a good thing if we visited the Capitol now. You are privileged in each city to do as much sight-seeing as you can and care to without getting over tired." They were all appreciative of this courtesy, and thought that that would make their tour a very very pleasant one. Just as soon as Mr. Dauntrey had handed them their envelopes, they departed for their rooms to get hats and coats and be ready to start at once. Aunt Betty also had her guide book, and in a very short time they were all ready for a visit to the Capitol. The Capitol building commands a central and slightly hilltop position. The grounds in front of the building are perfectly level, but in the rear slope downwards towards the Potomac flats. In the northwestern part of the park is an ivy-covered rest-house, one window of which looks into a grotto. Ruth thought this a pretty spot indeed, and exclaimed, "Oh, just see here, isn't this a romantic spot? I could sit here for hours and dream." "Wouldn't that be rather lonesome, Miss Ruth?" said Mr. Dauntrey to her, softly. "Wouldn't you rather have someone else here with you?" Ruth did not answer this question, but just gave him an adorable little glance. "The ground immediately in front of the Capitol is the plaza," said Mr. Ludlow. "Here vast crowds assemble to witness presidential inaugurations." Three flights of broad steps led up to the main entrance, an architecturally effective feature. The southern wing contains the House of Representatives and the northern one the Senate chamber. "The central portico," remarked Mrs. Calvert, "I would like to have you notice particularly. It dates back from 1825. The allegorical group cut in sandstone was designed by the President, John Quincy Adams." "What does it represent?" questioned Alfy. "The group represents the genius of our beloved America," answered Mrs. Calvert. "America is resting her shield upon an altar, while an eagle rests at her feet. She is listening to hope, and points in response to Justice." "I think you have told us a very good story of that piece, Mrs. Calvert, and as you are just as well, perhaps better acquainted with this place than I am, do you mind explaining the things occasionally, so as to help me out?" asked Mr. Ludlow. "Why, it is a pleasure to me, I assure you," answered Mrs. Calvert, gracefully. "You see I have been here often and I have my indispensable Rand, McNally guide book." "Right here where you are standing," interrupted Mr. Dauntrey, for he wished them to understand that he had been to Washington before and knew something of the place, "is where all the presidents of the United States since the time of Jackson have been inaugurated, the chief justice adminstrating the oath of office here in full view of the onlookers." The large bronze doors were thrown back, and all entered the building itself. The entrance takes one immediately into the rotunda, which is of enormous size. The floor is of sandstone, the rotunda being nearly 100 feet in diameter, and almost twice that high. A balcony runs around it, and strangely interesting is the fact that this balcony has a very good whispering echo. The decoration of this huge place is confined mostly to the walls, but there are a few pieces of statuary on the floor. The great wall space is given to historical pictures of considerable size, and all are familiar to everyone through their reproduction on postals, currency and postage stamps. The whole party made a tour of the room with much interest, viewing the canvases. "We might divide these pictures into two classes," said Mr. Ludlow, "the early historical and revolutionary. The former are, I suspect, to a degree imaginative, but the latter are accurately true to the times and scenes they depict. In the first group are the following: 'The Landing of Columbus at San Salvador in 1492,' 'The Discovery of the Mississippi by De Soto in 1541,' 'The Baptism of Pocahontas at Jamestown in 1613,' and, the last of this group, 'The Farewell Service on Board the Speedwell.' This shows an unseaworthy old port now called Lyden, Holland--for America, bearing the first colony of pilgrims who were finally landed on Plymouth Rock by the Mayflower." "Then," Mrs. Calvert pointed out, "there follows the group of Revolutionary pictures. Beside each picture of this group is an outline key which gives the names of the people shown. The first is 'The Signing of the Declaration of Independence' in the old hall in Philadelphia in 1776. The second one is the 'Surrender of Burgoyne at Saratoga' to General Gates. This picture was made from sketches made on the very spot by Colonel Trumbull, who was a close friend of Washington. He was present at the scene of the next picture also, 'The Surrender of Lord Cornwallis.' The British are seen marching between the lines of the Americans and their French allies. "The fourth is the 'Resignation of Washington' as commander-in-chief of his well-tried army, always a rather pathetic scene, it seems to me." "How interesting. I could spend hours here, but suppose we must not." "Where next?" inquired Dorothy. "We will go through this door and into what was the original Hall of Representatives, and is now the Statuary Hall," answered Mrs. Calvert. The room which they now entered was semi-circular in shape, and whose ceiling is half a dome beneath which is a spacious gallery now filled with a library. "The House of Representatives used this hall quite generally for fifty years, from 1808 on," said Mr. Ludlow. "Here Clay, Webster, Adams, Calhoun, Randolph, Cass, and many others won world-wide fame, and made the walls ring with their fiery eloquence. Here were many fierce and bitter wrangles over vexed questions, turbulent scenes, displays of sectional feelings. Too bad they had no talking machines in those days to deal out impassioned oratory for future generations." "What is that star set in the floor for?" inquired Ruth; whose interest in oratory of past ages was limited. "That marks the spot where John Quincy Adams, then a representative from his home, Massachusetts, was prostrated at his desk. See, the date is February 1, 1848," read Dorothy. "Where did all these statues come from?" questioned Alfaretta. "Most of them were bought and placed here, and some of them, I think, were donated," answered Aunt Betty. "This statuary hall," continued Mr. Ludlow, "has great acoustic properties." "Shall we get a Capitol guide?" asked Mrs. Calvert. "They say they can amuse one greatly, for they know each place where these strange things can be heard." "Yes, I will go and find one. You stay here till I come back," added Mr. Ludlow, turning to the others. In a few moments he was back, accompanied by a young man in uniform. The guide showed them where they could hear curious echoes, whispers distinct at a distance, and the ability to hear slight sounds that are inaudible at your elbow. They all tried these experiments. Ruth took her place at one corner of the room and Dorothy in the other corner at the same side of the room. The guide told them that they could converse in a low tone, yet each heard distinctly what the other said. Ruth started off by saying, "Dorothy, do you believe what this guide is telling us or do you think he is fooling us?" Dorothy was greatly surprised when she found she could hear quite plainly what Ruth said, and answered, "I am surprised to say I do." At this ambiguous answer they all laughed. Then, one by one, they tried the experiment, each finding how perfectly it worked out. Leaving Statuary Hall by the door under the arch, they traversed the corridor to the present Hall of Representatives. It is an oblong room of liberal size. The ceiling is a framework of iron, bronzed and gilded, and inlaid with glass upon which the coats-of-arms of the States are painted. The light effect is beautiful; the colors are mellowed rather than obscured. The Speaker's raised desk is against the southern wall and below this are the marble desks of the official reporters. The latter keep a stenographic record of everything done or said, to be published the next morning so that those who are absent or pay little attention to what is going on may still keep posted on the progress of events. The sergeant-at-arms is within easy call. This latter officer is called the Speaker's policeman--the representative of the physical force, and his symbol of authority is the mace, which reposes on a marble pedestal at the right of the speaker. "The mace was adopted by the House in the first Congress," explained Mr. Ludlow. "It has been in use ever since." "How do they use it?" questioned Dorothy. "When it is placed upon its pedestal," he answered, "it signifies that the House is in session, and under the Speaker's authority." "I suppose I ought to know, but who is the Speaker, and what does he do?" asked Alfaretta. "The Speaker," continued Mr. Ludlow, "is the head of the House, elected by vote of the members." "And I have a question," said Ruth. "What is a mace?" "In this case, the mace is a bundle of black rods fastened with transverse bands of silver. On its top is a silver globe, surmounted by a silver eagle," answered Mr. Ludlow, "and when the sergeant-at-arms is executing the commands of the Speaker, he is required to bear aloft the mace in his hands, unlike the House of Parliament, where there is much form and ceremony, there is little else here than quiet dignity." Grouped in concentric semi-circles are the desks of the Representatives, all small, uniform and handsome. "The Republican party all sit on the Speaker's left and the Democrats on the right," volunteered Mr. Dauntrey. "My, but there are a lot of seats," said Alfy. "Who uses them?" "In the galleries," said Mr. Ludlow. "Those over the Speaker's head are for the press. The others are for onlookers, some for diplomats, friends of the Congressmen, and some for ladies. They hold more than a thousand people, I think." Going downstairs they came to the House lobby. This apartment is richly furnished and contains many portraits, most of them being crayon drawings of the Speakers of the past. Passing through this room and out, one comes to the committee rooms in one of which is hung a notable collection of paintings of the principal forts of the United States. From this corridor, the party descended the eastern grand staircase to a basement corridor which extends from end to end of the Capitol on this ground floor. This they traversed till they came to the Senate chamber. The white marble pillars in this at once attracted their attention. Mr. Ludlow said, "I want you all to examine these marble pillars carefully and notice that though they are of Corinthian mold, their floriated capitals represent leaves of American plants, the one most used being the tobacco leaf." Passing onward, to the right, they saw the old Supreme Court chamber, now used as a law library. All the corridors at this end are bright, and the walls and ceilings are very elaborately decorated with mural designs in the Italian manner, being daintily drawn and brightly colored. Among them are many portraits of early men of note, in medallions, and a long series of charming drawings in colors of American birds and flowers. The vestibule of the Senate post office is particularly picturesque, having over the post office door a large painting of Fulton, indicating his first steamboat, "The Claremont," passing the palisades of the Hudson. A stairway leads on up to the main floor, where corridors completely extend around the Senate chamber, which occupies the center of its wing. Here the ceiling, in contrast with the one of the House, is flat, with broad panels of glass, painted with emblems of the army, the navy and the arts. The walls are of marble, paneled, the doors of choice mahogany, the carpet green, which sets off well the mahogany desks of quaint pattern. Each desk bears a silver plate with the occupant's name engraved upon it. "Do the Republicans sit on the left of the Speaker here, and the Democrats on the right, as in the House?" questioned Alfaretta, very proud of herself for having remembered what had been told her in the other room. "Yes, but there is no Speaker in the Senate," answered Mr. Ludlow. "Who is it, then, that uses that beautifully carved high backed chair on that little platform there?" asked Dorothy. "The president of the Senate is the Vice-President of the United States," said Mrs. Calvert, smiling and thinking that the girls ought to know more about these things, for they were shockingly lacking in knowledge of all the fundamental principles of the workings of the government. "Who are all these statues of?" asked Alfaretta, pointing to the niches in the walls. "These are statues of all the vice-presidents," answered Mrs. Calvert again. "Outside here are many interesting things that you will all like to see," said Mr. Ludlow. "To the right here is the famous portrait of Washington, and opposite, one of John Adams." "Is that Benjamin Franklin?" inquired Ruth, looking at a large marble statue at the foot of the eastern staircase, when they had passed through the door situated between the two portraits. "Yes, and the picture on the wall of the stair landing is a very famous one. It is of Commander Perry at the battle of Lake Erie. Perry is seen transferring himself and his flag from his sinking flagship 'Lawrence' to the 'Niagara,' when he won that great victory. This transfer was made under fire. Perry's younger brother, Matthew, then a midshipman, is depicted here as entreating his brother and commander not to expose himself too recklessly," said Mr. Ludlow in the way of explaining this picture. "And the faces of the sailors are drawn from once well-known employes about the Capitol," added Aunt Betty. "My guide book tells me that." "This vestibule opens at its inner end into the Senate reception room. The one thing of interest in this room," said Mr. Ludlow, when they had entered, "is the picture on the south wall. It is of Washington, in conference with Jefferson and Hamilton." "Isn't the room pretty! What luxurious chairs, soft sofas, beautiful rugs, and those cream colored curtains!" exclaimed Ruth. "Whose room is this?" asked Dorothy, who was becoming tired, and, wanting to move on more rapidly, had gone ahead. "This next room is the President's room," answered Aunt Betty. "It is the custom of the President to sit here during the last day of a Congressional session in order to be ready to sign bills requiring immediate attention. The portraits are those of Washington and his first cabinet members." From here they ascended to the gallery floor by way of the western grand staircase, at the foot of which stands the statue of John Hancock. In the wall of the landing is Walker's painting, "The Storming of Chepultepec." The scene is during the Mexican War, when it was captured by Scott's army. The rooms here in the gallery are numerous committee rooms not open to the public, so they all passed on down the corridor to the interesting rooms that contain Morau's celebrated pictures of the canyons of the Colorado and of the Yellowstone, which were painted by actual study of the scenes. Those familiar with these marvelous regions of the country recognize that the coloring is by no means overly vivid, and that the drawings are most accurate and natural. In the adjoining hall is the painting of the encounter between the Monitor and the Merrimac. This picture is the only exception to the rule that no reminder of the Civil War should be placed in the Capitol; an exception due to the fact that this was in reality a drawn battle, where the courage of the contestants was conspicuously equal, and where the naval methods of old found their grave. Its historic interest is, therefore, world-wide. "The bust, there, Dorothy," said Aunty Betty, "is of John A. Dix, afterward a major general. It was he, who, when he was Secretary of the Treasury early in the uncivil war, sent to one of his special representatives in a Southern State the famous order containing the words, 'If anyone attempts to haul down the American flag, shoot him on the spot,' which so thrilled patriotic hearts." "From here let us go to the Supreme Court," said Mr. Ludlow. "That will finish our tour of the Capitol." A small elevator took them down to the main floor, where they walked along the corridor, viewing the portraits of Thomas Jefferson and Patrick Henry. The Supreme Court of the United States now uses the chamber in the old Capitol which was originally designed for the Senate. The background is a row of columns of variegated gray Potomac marble, with white Ionic capitals. In the centre is the chair of the chief justice, behind which are draped crimson curtains surmounted by a hovering eagle. On the dias below is the long "bench" of the most august court in the land. "One formal custom here will be of interest," said Mr. Dauntrey. "On court days the justices enter the room in procession precisely at noon. They wear voluminous black silk gowns, and sit in a prescribed order with the chief justice, of course, in the centre." "There. I think we have made a very careful tour of the Capitol. I think we have missed nothing at all of importance," said Mr. Ludlow. "But I guess by now, you are all tired and anxious to be back to the hotel." "What time is it, I wonder?" said Dorothy to herself, and turning to Mr. Ludlow said, "Mr. Ludlow, I feel as if it were time for lunch." "Why, it's one-thirty o'clock," said Mr. Ludlow. "I am surprised that the time has gone so quickly, so let's hurry back to the hotel, for we are already late." All were hungry and anxious to get back to their luncheon, but no one regretted a single moment spent in this most interesting place. CHAPTER XIV. HIGH HONOR. That afternoon Dorothy devoted to practice, giving special attention to the three pieces she was to play at the concert, two of which had been given place on the program. The third was to be held in readiness in case she needed to respond to an encore. Aunt Betty and Alfy listened to her and expressed their approval. They were never limited in their praise of her work, which always seemed to them beyond criticism. "Good-bye, for a while," called Dorothy, at the end of a stanza. "I will only be gone a few minutes, I hope. Mr. Ludlow, in my letter of instructions, told me to come to him at four o'clock. I have to play over my selections to him so he can criticize them." Dorothy walked slowly down the hall and knocked on the sitting room door. In a moment, to her surprise, Mr. Dauntrey opened it. "Good afternoon," said he. "Now, I shall have the pleasure of listening to you play, I hope." "Mr. Ludlow said that I was to come here at four o'clock. I think he wants me to play my selections over for him," answered Dorothy. "Yes, you are right," said Mr. Ludlow, from his large easy rocking chair by the open window, which overlooked a court. "Yes. Stand over there and start in at once." Dorothy, thus enjoined, took up her violin and began playing. She finished her first piece without any interruptions on the part of Mr. Ludlow. She was about to start the second piece when he called to her to stop. "Play the introduction to that piece again and a little louder, also a little firmer," he ordered. She did as she was told. "That's a little better," he said, when she had finished. "But I should play the introduction still louder, so as to make a marked contrast when the melody proper starts in, by playing that very softly, like someone singing way off in the distance. And one more thing; in the last part, when you have that staccato melody, play that sharper. Now, try the piece all over again." Dorothy answered, "Yes," and then played again, trying to do just as Mr. Ludlow asked her to, and when she finished she stood still, saying nothing, just waiting to hear what Mr. Ludlow would say. If she expected a word of praise she was to be disappointed. "Very well, try the next one," was all Mr. Ludlow said. So the girl once more took up her violin, and filled the room with melody. This time she played her piece, so she thought, very poorly, in part, because of Mr. Dauntrey. She seemed to feel his eyes on her, and it made her nervous. "Very well," said Mr. Ludlow, much to her surprise. "That will be all for this afternoon. And, Miss Dorothy, try not to get nervous or excited to-night. I expect you to do your very best." "I will try," smiled back Dorothy. "Good afternoon." Just as she reached the door, she saw Ruth, who stepped back into the shadow of the hall. Ruth questioned, "Is he cross? And is Mr. Dauntrey there?" "Mr. Ludlow isn't cross, but he's very business-like. And Mr. Dauntrey is in there, and I wish he hadn't been," answered Dorothy. "Oh, dear," exclaimed Ruth, "I just know he will be so cross with me, for if Mr. Dauntrey is in there I just can't sing. He thinks I am a wonderful singer, and I know that I'm not. Still, I hate to have him think that I can't sing at all." "You will do all right, dear," comforted Dorothy. "Just think you are alone, and forget everything and everybody." "Very well," answered Ruth, "and good-bye. I must go in and bear it," saying which she walked up to the door and knocked. Dorothy walked down the hall toward her own rooms, then she turned, took the elevator downstairs, and bought a postal, one showing a picture of the capitol. This she took to her writing desk, addressed it, and wrote just this, "Arrived safe. Visited the capitol this morning. Will write later. With love, Dorothy." She placed a stamp on it and mailed it, then hurried upstairs to her room again. "I am rather tired," she said to her aunt and Alfy, who were reading, "I think I shall rest a few minutes before I dress for dinner. We need to have dinner real early to-night, as we are expected to be at the National Theater at 7.30 p. m. Mr. Ludlow is to give us each a program, then, and tell us of any last orders he may have for us." "Shall I get your things all out and have everything all ready for you?" inquired Alfy. "Yes, please." "What dress do you want to wear?" asked Alfy. "I think you had better wear the pink one, dear," suggested Mrs. Calvert. "Very well, the pink one, Alfy," called Dorothy. "I will have all the things you need ready; shoes--I mean slippers, stockings, handkerchiefs, and gloves," called back Alfy, as by this time Dorothy had reached her room, and was preparing for her rest. Both Mrs. Calvert and Alfaretta continued to read for quite some time, and finally when she thought it was time for Alfy to get dressed, Aunt Betty said: "Alfy, I think you had better start to get dressed, now, and as you are to lay out Dorothy's things for her, I do not think you will have any too much time." "Surely, Aunt Betty, I will begin at once. I was so interested in my book that I forgot my duties," answered Alfy, and she started into the next room and commenced getting Dorothy's things ready first. When she had finished this task, she walked back into the sitting room again and inquired, "Aunt Betty, I have finished getting Dorothy's things ready. Will you please now tell me what you would like to have me wear?" "I think you might wear your little white dress, with the pretty blue sash and ribbon of the same color, for your hair," answered Mrs. Calvert. "And you might wear white shoes and stockings. We are merely going to be part of the audience, to-night, so I hardly think we need dress very much." "All right," answered Alfy, cheerily, and started away again, humming a little tune under her breath. She was pleased to think she could wear her new white dress, with the pretty blue sash. And she thought she would ask Dorothy to tie the blue ribbon around her hair, as Dorothy always did such things so much daintier than she did. Still singing, she started to dress in earnest. It wasn't long before Dorothy awoke from her nap, and soon the two girls were dressed and ready to help each other with the finishing touches. Together they made short and quick work of this. Mrs. Calvert looked up as they entered the room, and said, "Come here, and kiss me, dears. You both look very sweet; very pretty, indeed." "Do you and Alfy want to be audience again, while I play over my pieces once more?" asked Dorothy. "I'm sure Mr. Ludlow didn't quite like the way I played one of them this afternoon." "Of course we do," answered Aunt Betty. "We will each sit down and listen very attentively." "I will play first the last piece on the program," announced Dorothy. "Very well," said Mrs. Calvert, smiling encouragingly at the girl. Dorothy gave careful attention to her work, and played one after the other of the three selections through, pausing long enough between each piece so that they might know she was about to begin the next. The one Mr. Ludlow had taken exception to and criticised, that afternoon, she played last, paying strict attention to the parts he had indicated as needing correction. When she had finished, she laid down her violin, and came and stood in front of her aunt, questioning: "Do you think I played them well enough? Did I do better than I did this afternoon before I went in to see Mr. Ludlow, and did you notice the difference in the playing of the last piece?" "My, what a lot of questions," said Aunt Betty, laughing. "Now, to answer them all: Yes, I do think you played much better just now than you did before. And I think Mr. Ludlow's corrections in that last piece improve it greatly. You see, he considers your work from the viewpoint of the audience." "I am glad you like the correction. I think it is better by far, myself. But I just wanted to get your opinion on it before I was quite satisfied," replied Dorothy. "I guess, to change the subject, that we are all ready for dinner, so let's go down; maybe some of the others are ready also." They found that all of the party were already at dinner, so they joined them in a quiet meal. Each seemed imbued with the responsibility that rested on their shoulders. Dorothy, leaving her aunt and Alfaretta to follow her to the theater, started early with Ruth and Mr. Ludlow. On the way to the theater, Mr. Ludlow said, "Just one final word of instruction: Stand either a little to the right or a little to the left of the centre of the stage; never just in the centre. It looks better from the house side. And try not to get nervous. Mr. Dauntrey will give you each a program. And now, I think you are all right." Mr. Dauntrey, joining them on their arrival, gave each a program. Dorothy noted that she was to be the third, and was quite pleased to find that she came in the first half of the program. She always liked to play and then go out and sit with her aunt and listen to the remainder of the recital. The programs were beautifully printed in gold and color, on a heavy white paper, on the cover of which was an eagle. The sheets were tied together with a red, white and blue ribbon. The contents read as follows: PART I. 1. Songs-- "Ave Maria" Gounod "La Palonia" Gradier Miss Mary Robbia. 2. Piano Solo-- "Am Meer" Schubert "Caprice Brilliant" Leybach Mr. C. B. Carleton. 3. Violin Solo-- Adagio from "Moonlight Sonata" Beethoven Meistersinger Wagner Miss Dorothy Calvert. 4. Songs-- "Chanson de Florian" Godard "Ah, That We Two Were a-Maying" Smith Miss Ruth Boothington. PART II. 5. Classical Dances-- "Hungarian Dance" Brahms "Dance of the Sylphs" Berlioz Miss Florence Winter. 6. Trio Songs-- "The Psalms" Faure "Serenade" Schubert "Song of the Toreador" Bizet "Lost Chord" Sullivan Rendered by Trio: Miss Dozzi, Mrs. Helmholz, Signor de Peiuzzi. "Are you going out in front to sit with your aunt and Alfaretta, after you have finished?" inquired Ruth, who was standing beside Dorothy. "Yes, do you want to come out with me?" Dorothy asked. "Yes. If I may," answered Ruth. "Will you wait here in the wings till I have finished singing, and then we can go out together. I come right after you on the program." "I am anxious to see Miss Winter's dance," said Dorothy. "And so am I, and to hear that trio sing," answered Ruth. "Do you want to see the stage?" called Mr. Dauntrey. "Come now, if you do. Mr. Ludlow wants you all to go and try it out; that is, I mean, practice making an entrance." The girls walked over in the direction in which Mr. Dauntrey led. "Oh!" exclaimed Ruth, when the vista of the stage came into view. "Isn't it pretty!" "It is, indeed," acquiesced Dorothy. The stage was a spacious one. To the right was placed the grand piano, around which palms were artistically arranged. In the centre, and way to the rear, as a background, hung a large American flag. On each side of the flag ran a regular column of palms. Little plants and flowers were on the stage in such profusion as to transform it into a veritable fairyland. "Wasn't that a nice idea to put the flag back there?" said Ruth. "I think the stage decorations are very artistic, and I am sure with such surroundings, everyone should do their very best," said Mr. Dauntrey. Just then they looked at the clock in the wings and saw that it was 8.15 p. m., the time announced to commence. They all walked off the stage and back into the wings. As the curtain arose, Miss Robbia advanced to do her part. Just then Dorothy heard Mr. Ludlow say, "I think the President is here." "Oh, I hope he does come," answered Miss Ruth. But Dorothy, as she went back to await her turn, was not quite so sure. It seemed a serious thing to play before the greatest dignitary in the land. The first number at last was finished, then the second, then it was Dorothy's turn. When she was on the stage, she looked out into the audience and there, sure enough, in the large, beautifully decorated box, sat the President and his party. Surely the presence of such a notable guest should prompt her to do her best. She wondered if the fact of his being there would make her nervous. Then she thought of Jim and of what he would say, and then once launched upon her theme, she forgot everything else. Her whole soul, it seemed to the audience, was engulfed in her art. Never had instrument fashioned by hand been more responsive to human touch. When she had finished playing, she heard vaguely the applause, and went out again before the curtain to bow her acknowledgment. Then a large bunch of American beauty roses were handed to her. A very pretty picture indeed did she make with the large bouquet of flowers in her arms. When the first half of the concert was over, Mr. Ludlow came back and said: "The President would like Miss Ruth and Miss Dorothy to come to his box; he would like to congratulate you both." "Ah, that is pleasing, indeed," exclaimed Dorothy. "Surely we are honored," added Ruth. They followed Mr. Ludlow out to the President's box, where he and his family and a few friends sat. When they reached the box, the President rose and said, smilingly: "I want to congratulate you young people on your success. It has been a great pleasure for me to hear you. Your playing, Miss Calvert, was entrancing." All the eyes of the audience were now turned on the presidential box, and there was a craning of necks, trying to see what was going on there. The incident was soon over, the President had shaken hands with each, and Dorothy at last found time to look at the card attached to her roses. She imagined Aunt Betty had sent them to her. But she was very much surprised and greatly pleased when she saw Jim's name on them, and wondered how he could have sent them. She hugged them close to her and kissed each pretty rose. Just then Ruth came up and said, "I am ready now, dear, let's go out in front. My! What beautiful flowers you have. Who sent them to you?" "A friend," answered Dorothy, blushing. "Wasn't _he_ thoughtful to remember to telegraph them here for you," laughed Ruth. "I wish I had a friend to send me beautiful flowers," she added. "Who gave you those beautiful violets you are wearing, that just match your eyes?" questioned Dorothy. "Oh, Mr. Ludlow sent them. He always does, because he knows I love violets, but that's different from having American beauty roses sent to one," Ruth replied. By this time they were around in front and had quietly sat down in the two seats reserved for them beside Aunt Betty and Alfaretta. Miss Winter had come on the stage preparatory to performing her dances. She was a very pretty little girl, with blonde hair, and had a small, but well formed figure. The stage was cleared and the lights dull. She danced about the stage in such a light, breezy way that it seemed to the audience that she was wafted about by a spring breeze. She danced most artistically, and her rendering of the two dances was so perfect that the audience applauded again and again, though in response, she just made some curtain bows and retired. The trio, which Ruth so wished to hear, came next. Their rendition was a long and exquisite one, and Ruth now realized why Mr. Ludlow had put them last. She turned to Dorothy and whispered, "Aren't they wonderful!" "Yes," answered Dorothy. "They are the best we have." "That's why," explained Ruth, "Mr. Ludlow put them last, so they would leave a good impression of the whole concert in the people's mind. I feel as if I just couldn't sing at all." The concert was now over, and the audience indicated by the volume of applause that rang out that it was a great success. Everyone had done just what they thought was their very best, and many had received beautiful flowers. It wasn't long before they were all home. CHAPTER XV. MT. VERNON. As Mr. Ludlow had planned for them to visit Mount Vernon and the White House the next day it necessitated their packing partly, so as to be ready to take the train for the next city in which they were to give a concert. As the concert had been such a great success here, they were very hopeful regarding the rest of the tour. The next morning they were all ready in time for the 10 a. m. boat for Mount Vernon. They had agreed the night before to see Mount Vernon first and leave the White House till last, as the majority cared more to see the former. On their way they passed the City of Alexandria, and were told that here the Union troops began the invasion of Virginia soil, and here fell Elsworth the first notable victim of the war. The old red brick hotel, where he pulled down the flag of the Confederates was pointed out to the party by the guide. Also the guide pointed out to them Christ Church, which Washington and his family had attended. Then, a little further on, among some peach orchards, begins the Mount Vernon estate, which in Washington's time contained about eight thousand acres. The estate is on the right bank of the Potomac, just sixteen miles below Washington. The land was part of an extensive grant to John Washington, the first of the family who came to America in middle of the seventeenth century. The estate descended to George, when he was barely more than a boy. He continued to develop and beautify the property until the breaking out of the war of 1776. Then the ability he had shown in the Virginia militia called him to the service of the United Colonies. He returned to Mount Vernon at the close of the war, but had to leave it, and take up his duties as first President of the Republic. He was buried upon his estate and the family declined to accept the subsequent invitation of Congress to transfer the body to the undercroft of the Capitol. After Mrs. Washington's death, the property descended finally to John Augustine Washington, who proposed to dispose of it. A Southern lady, Miss Ann Pamela Cunningham, secured the refusal, and after failing to interest Congress in her proposal that the Government should buy and preserve it as a memorial, succeeded in arousing the women of the country. An association of these women, named the "Mount Vernon Ladies' Association of the Union," with representatives from every State was incorporated, and in 1858 paid $200,000 for the central portion of the property, some 200 acres, covenanting to hold it in perpetuity. An admission fee of 25 cents charged all visitors goes to the payment of current expenses. The tomb of Washington is the first object of attention. It stands immediately at the head of the path from the landing. Its position, small dimensions, and plain form of brick, were indicated by Washington in his will. The front part, closed by plain iron gates, through which anyone may look, contains two plain sarcophagi, each excavated from a single block of marble. The one in the centre of the little enclosure contains the remains of the Father of His Country, within the little mahogany coffin in which they were originally put. At the left is that of Martha Washington. Four times a year these iron gates are opened by the authorities, and wreaths and other floral offerings are deposited therein. The mansion itself, stands upon considerable eminence, overlooking broad reaches of the historic Potomac. It is built of oak and pictures have made its architectural features familiar everywhere. When Mount Vernon was acquired by the ladies' association, it was not only out of repair, but the furniture had been distributed to various heirs, or sold and scattered. An effort was made to preserve as much as possible, and to restore as closely as might be the original homelike appearance of the house. It has been impossible to do this absolutely, and a great many other articles of furniture, adornment and historical interest have been added. In order to do this, the various State branches of the association were invited to undertake to furnish one room each, and many have done so. The names of these States are associated with the apartments they have taken charge of. A considerable quantity of furniture, as well as personal relics of George and Martha Washington, are here, however, especially in the bedrooms where they died. "Ah," exclaimed Dorothy as she entered the hall. "Just look at those swords. Did they all belong to Washington?" "Yes, dear, the one in the middle of the three," answered Mrs. Calvert, "was the one he wore when he resigned his commission at Annapolis, and when he was inaugurated at New York." "And what is this key hanging here for?" asked Alfaretta. "That key has a most interesting history," answered Mr. Ludlow. "That is the key to the Bastile, that prison in Paris, which was so justly hated by the people, and which was demolished by the mob. Lafayette sent it to Washington in a letter." Next they turned to the east and entered the music room. This room is under the care of the State of Ohio. "Oh, just see all the things in here!" cried Dorothy. "Look at that dear harpsichord." "That harpsichord was given to Nellie Custis by Washington," answered Aunt Betty. They next entered the west parlor. Above the mantel piece is carved the coat-of-arms of the family. The carpet here is a rug presented by Louis XVI to Washington. It was woven to order, in dark green with orange stars; its center piece is the seal of the United States, and the border is a floriated design. This room was refurnished by the State of Illinois. "Look, dear, see the spinet there," said Mrs. Calvert to Dorothy. "Yes, and what beautiful candlesticks those are standing there on that queer table," answered Dorothy. "What is this next room?" inquired Alfaretta. "This room," answered Aunt Betty, "was Mrs. Washington's sitting room, and was refurnished in the manner of the period by Georgia. But the dining room is what I want you to especially notice. The furniture here was that originally used by Washington--" "Next is Washington's library, for I see books in there," announced Ruth. "This is one of the most important rooms in the house," said Mr. Ludlow, as they entered the banquet hall. Its length is the whole width of the mansion, and its richly decorated ceiling is full two stories high. "The ornate fireplace and mantel of Italian marble and workmanship once occupied a place in a country home in England," said Mrs. Calvert; "someone brought it over the ocean and gave it to Washington, and it is worth examining." They now ascended the stairs to the second floor to visit the bedrooms. "Let's go first to the bedroom where Washington died," said Mr. Ludlow. "It is almost exactly as it was when he lived here." "There is the large four-poster," said Dorothy. "Yes, dear, and these pillows here on the chairs were worked by Martha Washington herself," added Aunt Betty. They next went to see the room where Martha Washington died. It is directly above the one occupied by Washington. This is fitted up as nearly as possible as it was when occupied by Martha, but only the corner washstand really belonged to her. They visited the other bedrooms, noticing the important things of interest in them, and then started back to the city, where they had late luncheon and went out immediately after to visit the White House. They had very little time left and wanted to get just a glimpse of the President's home. Everyone is familiar with the appearance of the White House. The grounds consist of some eight acres sloping down to the Potomac. The immediate gardens were early attended to as is shown by the size of the trees. One park, near the house, known as the white lot, is open to the public, and here, in warm weather, the marine band gives outdoor concerts. Here also is the sloping terrace just behind the White House, that the children of the city gather upon on Easter to roll their colored eggs. Coming up from Pennsylvania avenue along the semi-circular drive that leads up from the open gates, they entered the stately vestibule through the front portico. The middle upper window from which Lincoln made so many impromptu but memorable addresses during the war was pointed out. The doorkeepers here direct callers upon the President up the broad staircase. They formed the company into one party and conducted them, under their guidance, around the building. They were taken into the East room, originally designed for a banquet hall, which is used now as a state reception room. It has eight beautiful marble mantels, surmounted by tall mirrors, and large crystal chandeliers from each of the three great panels of the ceiling. Full length portraits of George and Martha Washington are among the pictures on the wall. Every visitor is told that Mrs. Madison cut the former painting from out the frame with a pair of shears to preserve it from the enemy when she fled from the town in 1814. But in her own letters describing her flight she says that Mr. Custis, the nephew of Washington, hastened over from Arlington to save the precious portrait and that a servant cut the outer frame with an axe so the canvas could be removed, stretched on the inner frame. Adjoining the East room is the Green room, named so from the general color scheme which has been traditional. The ceiling is ornamented with an exquisite design in which musical instruments are entwined in a garland with cherubs and flowers. Next to this, and somewhat larger and oval, is the Blue room. The ornaments here are presents from the French. The mantel clock was a present from Napoleon to Lafayette, and was given by the latter to the United States. The fine vases were presented by the president of the French Republic, on the occasion of the opening of the Franco-American cable. It is here the President stands when holding receptions and ceremonials. The Red room, west of the Blue room, is square and the same size as the Green parlor. It is more homelike than the others because of its piano and mantel ornaments, abundant furniture and pictures. It is used as a reception room and private parlor by the ladies of the mansion. In the State dining room at the end of the corridor, elaborate dinners are usually given once or twice a week, during the winter, and they are brilliant affairs. Plants and flowers from the conservatories are supplied in limitless quantities and the table is laden with a rare display of plate, porcelain and cut glass. It presents a beautiful appearance and is an effective setting for the elaborate toilets of the ladies and their glittering jewels. The table service is exceedingly beautiful and is adorned with various representations of the flora and fauna of America. The new set of cut glass, consisting of five hundred and twenty separate pieces, was made especially for the White House, and on each piece, from the mammoth centerpiece and punch bowl to the tiny salt cellars, is engraved the coat-of-arms of the United States. The table can be made to accommodate as many as fifty-four persons, but the usual number of guests is from thirty to forty. A door leads into the conservatory, which is always a beauty spot. Just opposite the state dining room is the private or family dining room. The offices of the President and his secretaries are on the second floor at the eastern end. The President's room and Cabinet room are in the executive office west of the White House, so the guide told them, and a large force of watchmen including police officers are on duty inside the mansion at all hours, and a continuous patrol is maintained by the local police of the grounds immediately surrounding the mansion. Thinking they had seen as much as they could safely spare time for, they hurried away back to the hotel, where they all hastily packed the rest of their things and sent them at once to the station. They soon started on their considerable journey, and almost nightly concerts till they should reach Chicago. CHAPTER XV. THE LAKE CITY. About a week later, they arrived one day, late in the afternoon, in Chicago, and at once took a bus from the station to the hotel, the Blackstone. They were to sing at the Auditorium that evening. The concert they gave originally in Washington was to be repeated. As all were now familiar with their task, they did not have to practice unless so disposed. Mr. Ludlow and his assistant hurried off to the Auditorium to see about decorations and to meet the committee that had charge of selling tickets there. Mrs. Calvert, Dorothy, and Alfaretta hurried up to their rooms to get their things straightened out. Alfy found, having packed hurriedly that morning, that their dresses were badly wrinkled. She said to Mrs. Calvert: "Aunt Betty, what shall I do? My dresses are very much mussed, and I guess Dorothy's are in the same condition." "I have a little electric iron in my trunk that I always carry with me for just that purpose, when I travel, because one's things are very apt to get wrinkled no matter how much care one takes of them," answered Aunt Betty. "May I have it?" questioned Alfaretta, eagerly, for she was always very fond of ironing, and always was very proud of her skill in that direction, for more than once Ma Babcock had praised her by saying even she couldn't have done as well herself. "I would love to iron the things all out nice, and make them look like new." "Certainly, I will get it for you. You unscrew the electric light bulb and take it out, and then put the small disk in place and screw it tight. Then turn on the current, and place the piece with the wire attached into the socket. Then in a few minutes the iron will be hot enough to use," directed Aunt Betty. Alfy started off to look for things to press; ribbons, belts, ties, collars and the dresses that they wished to wear that night. These she laid on the bed, and Aunt Betty left her there, as happy and content as she could be in having found some way in which she could be useful. When Dorothy was all alone at last, she opened a letter that the clerk had given her when she arrived, and read as follows: DEAR, DEAR GIRL: I received your postal and letter from Washington, but was rather disappointed not to have had another letter from you ere this. But I suppose you have been very busy sight-seeing in all the places you have been, and then you must have given up considerable time to practicing for your concerts. I know that you have little time while you are traveling about. I read the accounts of the first concert in the New York papers, and they all referred to it as being a great success. I am very proud of you, dear. As yet I have heard nothing at all from the detectives concerning your locket and chain, but I have heard of a new detective, a private man. A fellow in the office was telling me about his good work in many cases; it seems that he is a friend of this fellow's. The chap is a nice boy and is under me in my work. His name is Billie Clarke, and he lives uptown in New York. He has invited me up to his home to meet his mother and sister, some time next week. I shall go because it is very lonely here in this big city without you, dear. I miss you, little sweetheart, in a hundred different ways. Mr. Van Zandt telephoned me and said that he had submitted the proof he had concerning you, to his colleague, who would comment upon it a little later, and would submit it to the London solicitors; and just as soon as I hear anything about the result I will write to you. I asked him if he had been able to do anything in the line of tracing up little Lem's people, but he said that he couldn't say much as he had just started, and had found but very few traces. So that is something we will still have to hope for, though I am sure he will do his best to solve that mystery. I like my new work very much indeed. There is a lot to learn, and I spend all my evenings reading up on matters I am not quite strong in, but, in time, I certainly hope to make good. And, dearest, I hope to save up all I can, against that day when I will surely be the happiest man on earth. You know what day I mean, dear girl. Mrs. Quarren has been just great to me, and has done everything she could to make my room seem homelike. The meals here are wonderful, and if I keep on eating as much as I have this last week, I shall be fat when you come back here again. Now, dear, please, please write to me. You know how very lonely I am, and how anxious I am about you. Write and tell me all the news. I love you, girl, always. Your own, JIM Dorothy read the letter once, and sighed, "Dear, dear Jim," and then she slowly read the letter through again, kissed the signature, blushing as she did so. She then got up, walked to the writing desk, a pretty little mahogany one, fitted out nicely, selected some paper and started to write. She thought, "I will just write a little note to Jim to thank him for sending me those beautiful American beauty roses that everyone admired. I ought to have done so before." Her letter was as follows: DEAR JIM: The clerk just handed me your letter as I came into the hotel, for we just arrived in Chicago. I was very glad to hear from you. Most of all, I want to thank you so very much for those flowers. They were just beautiful, and it pleased me so, to think of your remembering that we were to have the concert, and then sending those flowers to me by telegraph. The President was at the concert, and in the intermission we went to his box, spoke to him, and shook hands with him. I carried your flowers with me all the time. I am going to rest for a while after I write this letter, as we give a concert here to-night at the Auditorium. The members of the company that joined us at Washington are very fine. There is a trio, and their singing is exquisite; also a Miss Winters, who is a wonderful dancer. She fairly floats about the stage, and makes a very pretty picture. The whole company is very good, indeed, and I guess we are doing very well, judging from the applause we earn. Mr. Ludlow seems pleased with the finances. You know Mr. Dauntrey takes care of those and helps Mr. Ludlow in general. Although the latter is very considerate and helpful, I don't know just why it is, but there is something I don't quite like about him. He is so very handsome that most girls, including Ruth, are raving about him. We have a few busy days. A concert every night and train by day. We go from here to St. Louis, and then to the Coast. I am anxious to get to San Francisco. I want to look up that old house there on the bluff that we had that year we took Aunt Betty there for her health when Monty Sharp was with us. Do you remember, Jim? I am so sorry about that locket, but I know that you will find it, and then we can clear up the whole affair. And so you think that perhaps Mr. Van Zandt will find out all about poor little Lem's parents just from that sampler that Alfy found in the attic? I do so hope so. Aunt Betty and Alfy, I know, would wish to be remembered, if they knew I was writing, so I will send their love anyway. Now, isn't this a nice, long, newsy letter? I have to practice a little now, so I will stop. I am yours, as ever, DOROTHY. She read the letter she had just written over again, and then sealed it. She then opened the door, stepped into the hall and dropped it into the mail box chute near the elevator. Then she returned to the room to dress and rest before the concert. In a little while Alfy entered and found her dressing. "See what I have been doing," she said, gayly, holding up the dresses she had just finished pressing so that Dorothy could see and admire them. "You dear girl," commented Dorothy, going over and kissing her. "You are always doing something for me. Thank you, dear, for pressing my dress. Doesn't it look nice now?--like new again." "Is there anything else that you would like to have pressed, now that I am working?" Alfy inquired. "Why, there is that blue waist that I have been wearing in the train. It is very mussy," added Dorothy, "but if you are in a hurry, don't bother with it; I really can get along without it." "Give it to me," responded Alfy. "I just love ironing, and will have it done in no time. I might as well press mine while I am about it, too." And taking Dorothy's waist from her, she quickly found her own, and started off with them. The girls were soon ready, and then went down the stair with Mrs. Calvert. Mr. Ludlow called for Dorothy at seven o'clock that evening, and they started for the Auditorium. The stage, this time, was decorated with huge bunches of chrysanthemums, and large green palms that hung their great, fan-like leaves in a regular bower effect over the stage, making a very effective background for the performance. The programs here were, of course, inside much like the Washington ones, but this time the cover was of heavy, dark brown manila paper, embossed into a large dull gold chrysanthemum, and tied with a yellow ribbon bow at the top end. They were very pretty and effective. The committee of ladies that had charge of selling the seats here in Chicago had arranged to have the programs sold. They had selected ten very pretty and charming debutantes, and had provided them with pretty little dainty satin bags, with yellow chrysanthemums handpainted on them. These bags were hung over their shoulders by yellow ribbons. The whole effect was very pretty and artistic. The girls were to charge twenty-five cents for the programs, and the money they slipped into a little pocket in the bag which held them. During the intermission, most of the people retired to the cosy little tea-room in front of the place, where cool and refreshing drinks as well as ice creams and ices were served at a moderately low fee. There the girls met many charming Chicago people, and the committee of ladies made it very pleasant for them by introducing them to almost everyone. A most informal and successful evening, they all agreed they had spent. The next day was Sunday, and as a few of their number were visiting friends in Chicago, the rest of them decided to spend the day sight-seeing. The trio, for so they were always called by the rest, all had gone to visit relatives, and little Miss Winter had promised to visit a friend who lived in a suburb of the city. So the rest of the company felt quite lost, and thought the best way to amuse themselves in this large, strange city was to go sight-seeing and become acquainted with it. "Did you know," said Mr. Ludlow as the little party started out on a tour of the city, "that Chicago is especially famous for its highly developed and extensive boulevard systems and parks? The public parks cover an area of over four thousand acres and are being added to every year." "Yes," responded Mrs. Calvert, "and the great boulevards of the city encircle the metropolis and connect parks and squares. These great roads, splendidly paved and shaded by trees, and lined with ornamental lamp posts, are throughout the year favorite highways for the automobilists." About ten minutes' walk from the hotel brought them to Grant Park on the lake front. There the Art Institute attracted their attention, and they found the building open. "The center of art interests in Chicago is located here," said Mr. Ludlow. "This building contains the Museum of Fine Arts and the School of Design. Its collections and the building and its work are entirely conducted on voluntary subscriptions." "I have heard that the Art School here is the largest one in America," said Mrs. Calvert. They visited the various rooms in the museum, including the Hall collection of casts of ancient and modern sculpture, and the Higinbotham collection of Naples bronzes, the rooms containing French sculpture and musical instruments, scarabæae, Egyptian antiques, Greek vases of glass and terra-cotta, and found all very interesting. They then visited Blackstone Hall, containing the great Blackstone collection of architectural casts chiefly from French subjects. Then the paintings of George Inness. These canvases are so diverse and representative that it is highly improbable that another equally significant group of works by Inness will ever come into market again. From the north side of Grant Park and extending south to Garfield boulevard near Washington Park is Michigan Boulevard. This historic drive, part of which was once an Indian trail, is a main artery of automobile travel from the lake front hotel districts to the south parks. The party then took a surface car to Jackson Park, which was a short distance. It was the site of the world's Columbian Exposition. "The Field Museum of Natural History was the Fine Arts Building in the Exposition of 1893," said Mr. Ludlow. "Let's visit that part first." This museum was established soon after the close of the world's Columbian Exposition, and occupies one of the largest and most beautiful buildings in the whole exposition group covering two acres. The building is classic Greek in style, constructed with brick and steel, covered with ornamental stucco, in imitation of marble. Marshall Field, whose name the institution perpetuates, was the person who made the building possible by his generosity. He gave about one and a half million dollars. Then at his death in 1906, he left the institution eight million dollars, one-half for endowment, and the other half for a magnificent permanent building, worthy of the unrivaled scientific collections which it contains. The nucleus of the material now on view was gathered by gift and purchase from exhibitions at the World's Columbian Exposition. From here they walked to the Wooded Island, an interesting feature of which is the Cahokia Court House, reputed to be the oldest public building in the whole Mississippi valley. It was built, it is said, about the year 1716, at Cahokia, Illinois, and has served in various public capacities. At different periods it was employed for both civil and military purposes, and is recognized as the oldest county seat building (Saint Clair County, Illinois) in the original Northwest Territory. The building is constructed of squared walnut logs, set on end in the early French manner of stockade construction, the logs being held together with wooden pins. Three flags, French, English and American, float from the flagstaff of the Old Cahokia Court House, daily. Within the building are a number of photographs of the original documents which pertain to its interesting history. The Japanese buildings, representing three periods of Japanese history, remain in their original site at the north end of Wooded Island, and near them is a tiny garden in formal Japanese style. The United States Life Saving Station is near the lake shore and was one of the interesting government exhibitions, and has ever since been maintained as a regular life saving station. La Rabida, at the south end of the park on the lake shore is an exact reproduction of an ancient Spanish convent, where Columbus was at one time sheltered and befriended, in the days before he was able to secure aid from the Spanish court. "And an interesting reminder of Columbus can be seen in those three small caravels," said Mr. Ludlow. "Do you know their names? They are reproductions of the small craft that brought Columbus and his followers on their first voyage to the New World." Dorothy, who had remembered reading an article on Columbus in a recent magazine, exclaimed joyfully, "I know, the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria." "Right," laughed Mr. Ludlow. "Oh, I am hungry," said Alfy, suddenly, "I am most starved. What time is it, I wonder? I feel as if it were way past dinner time." Mr. Ludlow consulted his watch and said, "It is just six forty-five." "I guess we had better start back to the hotel, now," broke in Mrs. Calvert. "I am rather tired and hungry, too." "We have seen quite a lot of the city and we can go into the shopping district and see that in the morning. There are some few things I would like to purchase," remarked Dorothy. "I would like to visit Marshall Field's. I have always heard so much about it and I would like to see if these Chicagoans really know what a good store is." "You will find that Marshall Field's is indeed a very wonderful store. Just like our New York stores, though, but a trifle better, anyway," said Mrs. Calvert. "Yes, I think you will all agree with me, when you visit that wonderful store in the morning." They hurried back to the hotel and prepared for dinner, after which Mr. Ludlow took Ruth, Dorothy and Alfaretta to church. Aunt Betty stayed home, being too tired to go out. CHAPTER XVI. THE ACCIDENT. On Monday morning the company divided into little parties and went shopping, each to secure their own special needs. Dorothy, Ruth, Alfaretta and Mrs. Calvert made one party. They went direct to Marshall Field's and were admittedly amazed by what they saw, so stupendous is the place. They were surprised to find the store's capacity so large and everything so fine, of such good quality, reasonably priced and conveniently arranged. Mrs. Calvert bought a belt and a pair of gloves, and met such courteous attention and carefulness among the shop-girls as to be very much impressed. She said to Dorothy: "Dear, I never before found shopping so pleasant. I wish I could always get everything I wished at Chicago, and especially here in this store, for it is directed wonderfully well." "I would like to send some souvenir postcards," broke in Alfy. "Do you suppose I can get them here?" "Yes, indeed," answered Dorothy. "I saw them, a large counter full of all kinds of views in and around the city; they were near the door which we entered." "You can write them right here, and send them off from the store," added Aunt Betty. "Come along then," directed Ruth. "All this way who want post cards." They made their way to the counter where the cards were displayed and immediately were engaged in selecting views of the things and places they had seen in the city. "Here is a very pretty card," said Ruth. "It has the La Rabida on it. You remember the convent we saw in Jackson Park yesterday, where they had all of those Columbus relics?" "Yes, and did you see this one?" asked Dorothy, holding up a card to view. "It's the little Japanese Garden on the Wooded Island in the same park." "Look!" exclaimed Alfy, showing them all another card, "here is one of the Art Institute!" Mrs. Calvert, who had been searching through the various cards, said, "I think these three are very interesting, this of the store, this one of our hotel, and this other of the Life Saving Station in the park." "Well, have you all selected those you wish?" said Dorothy. "Because, if you have, we can all go over there to the writing room and send them all right off." "What a beautifully appointed room," said Mrs. Calvert, as they entered the spacious, well lighted writing room, with the mahogany desks and generous supply of good quality writing paper, pens, ink-wells, etc. There was also in the corner a stamp machine, in which one deposits the right change and secures the desired number of stamps in return. "I want to send cards to Ma and Pa Babcock. Ma always likes me to, so she can show them down at Liza Jane's," said Alfy. "I would like to send one to Gerald Banks and his sister, and, of course, to Jim," said Dorothy. "I think there are just two I wish to send. I want to send one to Mrs. Quarren," rejoined Ruth, "and if you do not mind, I think I should like to send one to Jim, also." "Of course I don't object," laughed Dorothy. "Jim would be pleased to think you had remembered him. But let me see which one you are going to send him so I may send him a different one." "Very well," answered Ruth. "I will send the one of the hotel." "And I," responded Dorothy, "will send the one of the lake and Wooded Island in Jackson Park." "I think I shall send Jim a card also," said Mrs. Calvert. "But I shall send him the one of the store. My list is just a little longer than all you girls' lists. I shall send cards to Frau and Herr Deichenberg, little Lemuel and old Ephraim, and Jim, whom I mentioned before." "Shall I get the stamps?" said Ruth. "Can I go with you?" asked Alfy. "I want to see how the machine works." "Certainly, come on," added Ruth. "How many shall we need?" "You had better get fifteen," answered Mrs. Calvert. "You see," remarked Ruth to Alfaretta, "that one can only deposit nickels and dimes in the slot." "What are you going to put in?" questioned Alfy. "I am going to deposit first a dime and then a nickel in the slot that's marked for one cent stamps," replied Ruth, suiting her actions to her words and picking up the stamps which the machine dropped into the receiving tray. "That's real fun," said Alfaretta. "I'd always buy stamps here, but Ma Babcock would not like it." "Why not?" asked Ruth. "Because Ma always wants to talk, and would not think she had her money's worth without it." They put the stamps on the cards and then mailed them in the large gilt mail box near the door in the corner. "I guess it's most time for us to go back to the hotel for luncheon," said Aunt Betty. "Almost," replied Ruth, looking at her small gold watch. "It's now just eleven-thirty." "I want to get some blue ribbon," said Dorothy, "before we leave for the hotel." "And I must get a veil," added Ruth. The girls departed on their quests and in less than two minutes met Mrs. Calvert at the door and all went back together to the hotel for luncheon. It was a quiet mid-day meal, and as soon as it was over they had to devote their attention to their trunks, as they were to leave that afternoon for their next stopping place. Mr. Dauntrey and Mr. Ludlow attended to the baggage and the tickets and very soon all were ready. Just as they were leaving the hotel to go to the station, Mr. Dauntrey singled Ruth out, and approaching her, said, "Will you come and walk down with me?" "With pleasure," said the girl, suiting her steps to his, and they started slowly to stroll down to the station. "I have a box of Huyler's here for you," remarked Mr. Dauntrey. "I thought perhaps you would like it. I thought it would be nice for you to have on the train." "Why thank you ever so much. You are very kind." "Not half as kind as I would like to be, if you would only afford me the opportunity." Ruth made some answer that turned the conversation to some less personal subject. She kept up a run of chatter about indifferent matters. So many people were upon the streets and so many conveyances on the roadways that progress was slow, and when they reached the station they found Mr. Ludlow very much provoked that Ruth should have kept them all waiting, nearly causing the loss of their train. "Couldn't you have walked a little faster, Ruth?" Mr. Ludlow asked. "Or taken the stage to the station if you were so tired? This must not happen again." Ruth, who disliked being reprimanded before everybody, angrily exclaimed, "Well, you didn't have to wait here for me, I am sure, for you might have known that Mr. Dauntrey is capable of taking care of me, and, aside from that, I think I can take pretty good care of myself." Mr. Ludlow did not reply, but hurried them to their private car, the others of the party having preceded him. Very shortly they were speeding on their way. Mrs. Calvert read a book, and Dorothy and Alfy were merrily chatting over their trip, so Ruth turned away from Mr. Ludlow and busied herself talking to Mr. Dauntrey and nibbling his chocolates and bon bons. Mr. Ludlow, who had most of the time been looking out of the window, turned to Mrs. Calvert and said, "I think it looks as if we were going to have a bad storm. It looks to me as if the clouds have been following us up, and I'm afraid we are going to get it in a little while good and plenty." Mrs. Calvert looked out of the window and saw the storm clouds approaching and gathering for the downpour, and then her eyes wandered to the river beside which the train ran. "Just look!" she exclaimed, pointing to the water. "Look, quick, at the river!" "That is quite remarkable," said Mr. Ludlow. "Just see how high the water is and how fast it is flowing." "Why it seems to be rising higher and higher by the minute as we go along," responded Mrs. Calvert. "I can't understand it, can you?" "Oh!" shrieked Ruth at this moment, clinging to Mr. Dauntrey's hand. "Oh, what an awful flash of lightning! Oh, how I hate an electric storm! Lightning scares me half to death." "I like it," replied Alfy, looking across the dark, turbulent, swiftly moving stream. "I always like to watch it. And 'up mounting' we do have some awful storms. You remember them, don't you, Dorothy?" "Of course I do. Sometimes, though, I used to get a little scared. They used to be so very bad," said the girl, and all the people in the car jumped as a loud crash of thunder followed a blazing streak of lightning. The thunder seemed right under their feet and was so loud and so sudden that all were startled for a minute. Ruth jumped up and grabbed Mr. Ludlow around the neck and hid her face in his shoulder, moaning, "Oh, oh, I don't like this at all." Mr. Ludlow, although he did not like to see the girl so overcome with nervousness, was decidedly happy that she should turn to him, and hoped perhaps that the storm would last forever, if he could continue to hold Ruth to him. This awful clap was followed by another flash of lightning which lit up the car brighter than daylight. Mrs. Calvert, who was facing the window, looked out and gasped, "Oh, why don't they stop the train?" Then they all heard a mighty splash and the train gave a terrible lurch and threw those standing over on the floor and those sitting had a hard time to keep their places. All the lights immediately went out and Alfy shouted, "We are struck!" Some of the party shrieked and one or two fainted dead away. None could see the others in the terrible, black darkness in which they were enveloped. At last, after a prolonged silence that seemed ages, Mrs. Calvert said. "Is any one hurt?" Everyone began to collect their scattered thoughts by this time, and Mr. Ludlow had managed to rise from his fallen position and get Ruth up and into a seat. He grouped about in the pitch blackness into which they had been plunged and finally found his chair. He deftly managed to retain Ruth's hand in his, in order to reassure her. The answer Mrs. Calvert received in general was that everyone was safe and physically unharmed and mentally as near right as could be expected. Mrs. Calvert then asked, "Did anyone see out of the window when the flash of lightning lit up this car?" And when she had received answer that no one had, she continued: "I happened to be sitting facing the window and when the flash came I saw out very plainly." "What did you see?" questioned Mr. Ludlow, in a firm voice. "The river," responded Mrs. Calvert. "The river was up to the tracks." The fact was suggestive of further danger, and then Dorothy questioned, "What was the crash? And why did the train lurch so? And why are all the lights out?" "Maybe," suggested Alfy, "maybe we were struck with lightning. Do you think so, Aunt Betty?" "I don't know," she replied. "I can't understand where the train hands can be. They should be here to tell us what has happened." "Do you suppose we have struck another train?" questioned Dorothy. "Oh," groaned Ruth. "I wish we could have some lights. It's so dark I am afraid something will happen, and maybe some one will be killed." "Hush, child," remarked Mr. Ludlow. "Just be thankful things are no worse than they are, that we are all safe alive and none of us are hurt." Ruth subsided to silence and sobbed beneath her breath. Just then, George, the old negro porter, broke in on the excited party and endeavored to tell what was the matter. "Lord o' Mercy, massa!" he exclaimed. "De train am wrecked. The ingin and one ob de baggage cars did fall off these track, plump, splash, right in de water." "That's what the crash and splash and jerk was that we felt. The water was so high that it probably came up on the tracks here, and the engine and baggage car jumped the weakened trestle into the water. I wonder how it was it didn't pull the rest of the train into the water also," said Mr. Ludlow. Just then the conductor and a brakeman passing from the next car through their own explained what had occurred to Mr. Ludlow and the other interested listeners. First lighting the gas lamps to dispel the semi-darkness, the conductor said, "Sir, you see the lightning struck the train right between the first passenger car and the baggage, severing the connection, and leaving the engine and baggage car free to go ahead. They did, and running a little farther ahead it jumped the track, but no one was hurt. The shock somehow set the brakes, and brought the remaining cars to a stop. It's lucky we held to the tracks, sir, it is indeed." "Did anyone in the passenger cars get hurt?" questioned Mr. Ludlow. "No, sir, only a few fainted," answered the conductor. "What are we going to do now? We have no power to go ahead, and we can't even go back. We can't move. Are we to stay right where we are, conductor?" "For a time, we must," was the answer. "When is another train due here?" questioned Mrs. Calvert. "A train is due to come through this way in an hour and a half, madam," said the conductor. "But that will not help us any to go ahead. We have sent word back and may expect help from the nearest station. Some arrangement can likely be made to switch us off on a branch road, and by a circuitous route we can get back again to our line." "And how about our concert to-night?" "If help is promptly sent we may get you there on time." "We were due at five o'clock," said Mr. Ludlow. "We can't promise you anything definite now," said the conductor, as he went about his duties. "All we can do is to just sit still and hope for aid, and that it will come in time," said Mrs. Calvert. "I'm afraid that's all, except to be thankful that we were not killed," suggested Mr. Ludlow. The exact idea of their position was finally grasped by all, and everyone breathed a little prayer for having been saved so miraculously. They all quieted down and prepared to sit there and wait, and hope for the arrival of a train bringing aid. An hour an a half, so they had been told, and that hour and a half seemed the longest hour and a half that most of them had ever experienced. Finally they heard a shout from one of the brakemen, a glad shout, a joyous sign, they thought, and then the conductor came through and announced, "Sir, a small repair train has just come up to us. They sent it out very promptly, as they thought that we might be in even more serious need than we are." "Can it take us back, then?" asked Mr. Ludlow, and the rest of the company sighed in relief, because they now knew that they were safe and would eventually be pulled out of their present position. "It can take back two cars, sir," answered the conductor, "and would you object, sir, if I put some other passengers in here with you?" "Not at all," answered Mr. Ludlow. "Bring in as many as you wish. We will be only too glad to have them." The conductor departed, returning in a little time, accompanied by about a dozen women and half as many small children, saying, "I brought the women and young ones, as I thought that they would be more comfortable in here." Dorothy and Ruth, alert and interested, forgot their own discomfort in rendering aid to others, anxious and in distress. "They have connected the little repair train engine to the two cars," the conductor announced, "and we will be off in a short time now. We are going back up the road a little way and branch off, and so recover the main line. We think we will get you to your destination in time for your concert." This was done, but with little time to spare, and if all the artists were not quite up to their usual standard of excellence that night, the experience of the afternoon was quite sufficient excuse. The remainder of the trip to St. Louis was without event of note. The accident on the train was not without its advantages in the way of publicity, and their concerts drew large audiences. In St. Louis two concerts were given, both being very successful. CHAPTER XVII. CONCLUSION. In the sequence of events the tour came to an end. A twenty-weeks' season had been successfully carried through. There had been, of course, hampering and untoward conditions to surmount. An occasional discordant note was struck. Mr. Carleton, who acted as accompanist when no orchestra was employed, turned out to be rather an arbitrary individual, and had caused Ruth, particularly, many a heart-ache. Dorothy, with her winning responsiveness to an artistic temperament, felt that she had less cause to complain. Her affair with Jim had not of late been plain sailing. She had not written to him very often or a bit regularly, and he had entered a rather arbitrary protest, so she thought, and one letter at least, that she had addressed to him had gone astray. Then Jim reached the conclusion that his letters were not appreciated, and that absence had caused an estrangement. He nursed his resentment into a cauldron of bitterness, and with the perverseness of lovers built mountains of molehills. Not but that such ephemeral erections may, and oftimes do, cast a shadow that will blot out true regard. Without a tried and certain knowledge of her heart as concerned Jim, Dorothy had found the ever gentlemanly attentions of Mr. Dauntrey very agreeable. Ruth, on such occasions, was inclined to resentful looks and acts, of which, however, Dorothy was sublimely ignorant. One day, journeying from Sacramento to San Francisco, it had been observed that Mr. Dauntrey and Alfy were in close consultation, an unusual event for those two to find a subject of mutual interest. Later, in a spirit of fun, Dorothy chided her companion. "So you have won over Mr. Dauntrey," cried Dorothy, laughing. "Nonsense," said Alfy, but blushing rosily. "But for two hours on the train you monopolized him entirely. What did you find to talk about?" "Well, for one thing, we were talking about you," was the defensive response. "About me, Alfy, what could you have been saying about me?" "I was telling him," said Alfy, hesitatingly, "about your English inheritance." "Oh, but I wonder you did that. I asked that nothing be said about it. For, as you know, nothing has ever come of the matter, and nothing may. The locket has never been found, and the lawyer says that there are other 'seemingly insurmountable requirements.' My, what big words. I wonder I could string them all together." "Well," went on Alfy, in her further defense, "he asked about you, and I couldn't see that there was any harm." "No real harm, Alfy. And I hoped for Aunt Betty's sake that there was an inheritance assured. She is so worried about Bellevieu. The mortgages and taxes seem to eat up everything. I have given her, of course, all of my earnings, but she says things are still going badly." "What are we to do now?" asked Alfy, seeking another subject. "Go home?" "Mr. Ludlow has made some arrangements for Ruth to sing and for me to play here in San Francisco, at private houses of the rich. As you know, all of the others except Mr. Dauntrey, have gone east, their contracts expired." Their conversation was interrupted, now, by Aunt Betty, who came into the room. "Here is a much belated letter," she exclaimed, "the envelope all marked up with forwarding addresses. It must have been traveling about for quite some time." "It's from Jim," cried Dorothy, and quickly broke the seal. The postmark the letter bore was a date fully two months back, and the first few lines were, to the recipient very pleasing ones, till she remembered that they were written before their late disagreement. But the major part of the letter bore upon a subject that concerned them all, and this she read aloud. "It's about Lem," cried Dorothy. "Mr. Van Zandt has made some quite wonderful discoveries. And just to think, it all comes about through that sampler you found, Alfy. But let me read: "I have some interesting news concerning Lemuel Haley, the boy your camping party found in the thick woods crying that night. It was a lucky thing for the boy that Mrs. Babcock gave Alfaretta that sampler, for from just such a simple little thing as that, we have been able to trace all of Lem's family history, bringing out a sufficient, although I will not say good, reason for his uncle's mistreatment of him. "Lemuel Haley's mother was Hannah Woodrow. The very same girl that summered with Mrs. Babcock, and remained there attending the little village school for one whole year. She was a very delicate girl, not particularly pretty and very shy. She had large limpid brown eyes, and was of small build. "She returned to Baltimore, after her year in the mountains, and lived the regulation life of a wealthy farmer's daughter. There Mr. Haley, a traveling salesman, so he told her family, fell in love with her or--her money, and when both her father and mother died quite suddenly, the traveling salesman made it his business to woo the lonely girl. He wished to marry her immediately and protect her, so he told her, and was so persistent that the poor distracted, grief-stricken girl finally gave him her promise, and within a month of her parents' death married him. At once he proceeded to dissipate her fortune, and, to make a long story short, the poor girl died when Lem was born. The father was later killed by an accident. "Lem's only relative, it was found, was an uncle who lived in the South. This man volunteered to take the little one, and was made legal guardian and controller of the remnant of the fortune. The child was a weak, delicate boy, and this uncle, a cruel, planning man, figured that if he worked Lem very hard all the time, he would eventually break down, and then he would come in for the child's money. Thus, the poor boy was driven to desperation, and finally ran away. You know better than I do, the incidents connected with his rescue. "I have prepared all necessary legal papers as to the facts, to prove that Mr. Haley was and is an unfit guardian for the child, and will present these to the court." This pleasing news was interestedly discussed, and a happy future argued for the boy. The following morning, Mr. Dauntrey was early at the breakfast table, with a proposition that the party should visit Tamalpais. The day was beautifully clear, and on no other is a trip to the mountain's summit interesting. Mr. Ludlow could not go, but the ladies accepted with alacrity, and a prompt start was made. Glorious sights indeed are revealed, as the railroad winds its way to the apex of this peak, the highest so near an American city. Lunch was served at the summit house, but Dorothy was so interested in the views obtainable from the various vantage points that she wandered away from the others while they were still seated at the table. When her absence was noted, Mr. Dauntrey sought her out, at first unsuccessfully, then seeking for her in a secluded view point seldom visited, he heard her voice, and found that, in her anxiety to attain a high rock, she had lost her footing, and catching for a support had sprained her ankle. She had as well badly torn her dress. Her rescuer was all gallantry and courtesy, and assisted her to a seat near at hand. He would have carried her to the train platform, but this proffer Dorothy declined. "I shall be able to walk, shortly," she explained. "It is not a severe sprain and the pain is bearable, and only acute when I put my weight on my foot." "A few moments' rest will help to set you right," said Mr. Dauntrey, and then added, looking into her eyes, "Do you know, I wish you had been in some real serious danger, and that I had been privileged to render aid." "I thank you for what you have done, and now let's go to the others," quickly interposed the girl. But one effort to rest her weight upon her foot dissuaded her from any further immediate endeavor, and so she sought, unsuccessfully, to turn the conversation in other directions. "Do you know," he repeated, "that I would like to render such service that you would never wish for any other servitor?" "Please," said Dorothy, "let's talk about the wonderful view of sea and forest and the heaven above." "I am intense in my admiration of all that is beautiful, and above all, permit me to say that I admire the beautiful Dorothy." She raised her hand in protest, but he continued. "May I quote for you a little gem that is aptly expressive of my sentiments?" "Well," laughed Dorothy, quizzically looking at her foot, "I am at your mercy." The man by her side did not venture to touch her hand, which rested on the bench almost beside his own, but, with earnest intensity of his manner, he leaned forward and looked longingly, nay lovingly, into her eyes till they fell before his gaze. His face, handsome and animated, his voice musical and well modulated. Every word was spoken slowly as if to admit of certain assimilation. "May my Heaven be A rosary bower, With one sweet angel, And that one--Thee!" There was a moment's pause. "Miss Calvert," he went on, "I would that my heaven might begin on earth. It will, if you will be mine." Dorothy, like all other girls, under similar circumstances, had felt for a moment the compliment of a man's love, then all at once she recalled the conversation between Alfy and her quondam lover, and with her quick intuition, she had recognized her possible inheritance as the probable cause of Mr. Dauntrey's sudden declaration. Still she would not be unkind. "Oh, my foot pains me unbearably. Please, Mr. Dauntrey, get Alfy to come and help me." "Just one little word of hope and I fly." "No, Mr. Dauntrey, I can but say at once, and frankly and firmly, too, no," and with that she made pretense to such suffering from the injured foot that the suppliant for her hand had but, with the best grace he could muster, to comply with her very reasonable request. Dorothy, when the others came, was able, leaning lightly on Alfy's arm, to accompany them to the train, and soon was happily interested in the wonderful panorama spread before their eyes on the return journey. The base of the mountain reached, there was some delay, and Mr. Dauntrey walked about with Ruth, the two in earnest conversation. Aunt Betty and Dorothy sat quietly, while the former made as presentable as she could the torn garment worn by the girl. "You will have to discard this gown, and substitute for traveling your light mohair. Fortunately, the weather is warm enough now. You have not had it on for a long time." To Alfy was referred this decision, with results that will develop later. Alfy was interested, albeit horrified, and held irresistibly spellbound, by the "sausage" man, selling, as the placard said, "Hot Dogs." A half dozen wooley canines were exhibited on the counter and elsewhere about, and when an order for a frankfurter sandwich was given, one of the dogs was grabbed up and caused to disappear into a mechanical contrivance with a large wheel, which was then turned and there were barkings and such grumblings as might be expected from an animal suffering dire and distressing annihilation. Then from an opening, the much aproned proprietor handed forth the promised sandwich. At the hotel that afternoon, the girl's injured foot was cared for by her aunt. "We want no medicine-man," she said, "for I know of the most effective home remedy, guaranteed to cure in twenty-four hours. I have secured the ingredients from the hotel kitchen." "What may they be?" inquired Dorothy. "Lard and salt. The former spread on, and about the injured ankle, and liberally sprinkled with salt. Then securely bandaged." "It certainly is simple, and I will surely be able to play at the reception to-morrow afternoon?" "I have no doubt of it." "Aunty, we are so seldom by ourselves, and Ruth and Alfy have gone out. I want to have a long talk with you." Dorothy lay resting, her injured foot supported, while her aunt sat beside her, caressingly stroking her hair and forehead. First, the young girl spoke of Mr. Dauntrey and of her experience of that day. The humorous aspect of the circumstances appealed alike to both. Then the inheritance was discussed, and Aunt Betty deplored again the unfortunate loss of the locket and the lacking "insurmountable requirements," in the way of some missing papers. Concerning the latter, Aunt Betty had some hopes that among her accumulated correspondence and documents at Bellevieu, there might be found helpful data bearing on the subject. "Unless some good fortune is happily vouchsafed us," deplored Aunt Betty sorrowfully, "I greatly fear that Bellevieu will be lost." "Mr. Van Zandt wrote, however," encouraged Dorothy, "that it would be well worth while for us to go to England, and that personally presenting myself might 'achieve results otherwise unattainable.' You see, I have remembered his words." "I am determined upon that," responded Aunt Betty, "and I am arranging that we shall go within a month after we get back east. I have a little surprise for you, too. Molly Breckenridge is going also. The judge has arranged for her expenses." The reader, who would wish to still further follow the fortunes of our heroine will find in "Dorothy in England," a volume of startling interest and sweet sentiment. Dorothy was most appreciative of her aunt's thoughtfulness, and now she unburdened her mind of her secret. She told her of her strong regard for Jim, of his expressed love for her, and of her own inability to just exactly determine if her feelings were the equivalent of his. She wished for Jim every happiness, and she shared in his ambitions. They had had a difference, and she was most unhappy, and yet there was an intangible something that restrained her from seeking a reconciliation. The good, motherly woman, who was her confessor, knew perhaps better than the girl herself, the strength of her regard for Jim, and knew that the heart's promptings are seldom influenced. With this wisdom for a guide, she counselled wisely and satisfyingly. Time, and right doing, would remedy and set square all that was untoward. Folded in each other's arms in harmony of feeling, they were suddenly broken in upon by Alfy. "What do you think," she cried. "You told me to get out your light traveling dress. You had not worn it since that day of the fire in New York, and what do you think!" she excitedly repeated, "in the fold of the skirt I found this!" and she held forth the long missing locket. So it unquestionably was. The gown had been put away, and in the folds of the skirt had been caught, and so long retained, the locket. A word more and our story ends. The journey east was uneventful. At Baltimore, Aunt Betty and the girls said good-bye to Mr. Ludlow and Mr. Dauntrey. Ruth was to visit a day at Bellevieu and then go on with Alfy to New York. THE END. TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent. 
28221	----	generously made available by Internet Archive (http://www.archive.org) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustrations. See 28221-h.htm or 28221-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/8/2/2/28221/28221-h/28221-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/2/8/2/2/28221/28221-h.zip) Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive. See http://www.archive.org/details/dorothystriumph00raymiala DOROTHY'S TRIUMPH by EVELYN RAYMOND Illustrated by Rudolf Mencl New York A. L. Chatterton Co. Copyright 1911 A. L. Chatterton Co. [Illustration: "A MELODY SUCH AS SETS THE HEART BEATING." "_Dorothy's Triumph._"] CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I ON THE TRAIN 9 II AT OLD BELLVIEU AGAIN 28 III DOROTHY MEETS HERR DEICHENBERG 49 IV THE BEGINNING OF THE TRIP 66 V THE CAMP IN THE MOUNTAINS 84 VI A CRY IN THE NIGHT 104 VII UNWELCOME VISITORS 122 VIII THE JOURNEY HOME 143 IX THE FIRST LESSON 158 X HERR DEICHENBERG'S CONCERT 174 XI CHRISTMAS AT BELLVIEU 192 XII MR. LUDLOW'S OFFER 207 XIII IN THE METROPOLIS 222 XIV THE STORM 237 XV DOROTHY'S TRIUMPH 251 DOROTHY'S TRIUMPH CHAPTER I ON THE TRAIN "Maryland, my Maryland!" dreamily hummed Dorothy Calvert. "Not only _your_ Maryland, but _mine_," was the resolute response of the boy beside her. Dorothy turned on him in surprise. "Why, Jim Barlow, I thought nothing could shake your allegiance to old New York state; you've told me so yourself dozens of times, and--" "I know, Dorothy; I've thought so myself, but since my visit to old Bellvieu, and our trip on the houseboat, I've--I've sort o' changed my mind." "You don't mean that you're coming to live with Aunt Betty and I again, Jim? Oh, you just can't mean that! Why, we'd be so delighted!" "No, I don't mean just that," responded Jim, rather glumly--"in fact, I don't know just what I mean myself, except I feel like I must be always near you and Mrs. Calvert." "Say Aunt Betty, Jim." "Well, Aunt Betty." "You know she is an aunt to you, in the matter of affection, if not by blood." "I do know that, and I appreciate all she did for me before she got well enough acquainted with you to believe she wanted you to live with her forever." "Say, Jim, dear, often when I ponder over my life it seems like some brilliant dream. Just think of being left a squalling baby for Mrs. Calvert, my great-aunt, to take care of, then sent to Mother Martha and Father John, because Aunt Betty felt that she should be free from the care of raising a troublesome child. Then, after I've grown into a sizable girl, in perfect ignorance as to my real parentage, Aunt Betty meets and likes me, and is anxious to get me back again. Then Judge Breckenridge and others take a hand in the matter of hunting up my real name and pedigree, with the result that Aunt Betty finally owns up to my being her kith and kin, and receives me with open arms at Deerhurst. Since then, I, Dorothy Elisabeth Somerset-Calvert, F. F. V., etc., etc., changed from near-poverty to at least a comfortable living, with all my heart could desire and more, have had one continuous good time. Yes, Jim, it is too strange and too good to be true." "But it is true," protested the boy--"true as gospel, Dorothy. You are one of the finest little ladies in the land and no one will ever dispute it." "Oh, I wasn't fishing for compliments." "Well, you got 'em just the same, didn't you? And you deserve 'em." The train on which Dorothy and Jim, together with Ephraim, Aunt Betty's colored man, were riding, was already speeding through the broad vales of Maryland, every moment bringing it nearer the city of Baltimore and Old Bellvieu, the ancestral home of the Calverts, where Mrs. Elisabeth Cecil Somerset-Calvert, familiarly termed, "Aunt Betty," would be awaiting them. Since being "taken into the fold" by Aunt Betty, after years of living with Mother Martha and Father John, to whom she had sent the child as a nameless foundling, Dorothy had, indeed, been a happy girl, as her experiences related in the previous volumes of this series, "House Party," "In California," "On a Ranch," "House Boat," and "At Oak Knowe," will attest. Just now she was returning from the Canadian school of Oak Knowe, where she had spent a happy winter. Mrs. Calvert had been unable to meet her in the Dominion, as she had intended, but had sent Jim and Ephraim, the latter insisting that he was needed to help care for his little mistress. Soon after the commencement exercises were over the trio had left for Dorothy's home. And such a commencement as it had been! Dorothy could still hear ringing in her ears the rather solemn, deep-toned words of the Bishop who conferred the diplomas and prizes, as he had said: "To Miss Dorothy Calvert for uniform courtesy." Then again: "To Miss Dorothy Calvert, for advancement in music." "The dear old Bishop!" she cried, aloud, as she thought again of the good times she had left behind her. "'The dear old Bishop'?" Jim repeated, a blank expression on his face. "And who, please, is the dear old Bishop?" "I'd forgotten you did not meet him, Jim. He's the head director of the school at Oak Knowe, and one of the very dearest of men. I shall never forget my first impression of him--a venerable man, with a queer-shaped cap on his head, and wearing knee breeches and gaiters, much as our old Colonial statesmen were wont to do. 'So this is my old friend, Betty Calvert's child, is it?' he said. Dorothy imitated the bass tones of a man with such precision that Jim smiled in spite of himself. 'Well, well! You're as like her as possible--yet only her great-niece. Ha! Hum!' etc., etc. Then he put his arm around me and drew me to his side, and, Jim, I can't tell you how comfortable I felt, for I was inclined to be homesick, 'way up there so far from Aunt Betty. But he cured me of it, and asked Miss Muriel Tross-Kingdon to care for me." "Miss Muriel Tross-Kingdon?" "Why, yes--the Lady Principal. You met her, Jim. You surely remember her kind greeting the night the prizes and diplomas were conferred. She was very courteous to you, I thought, considering the fact that she is so haughty and dignified." "Don't believe I'd like to go to a girls' school," said Jim. "Why, of course, you wouldn't, silly--being a boy." "But I mean if I was a girl." "Why?" "Oh, the life there is too dull." "What do you know about life at a girls' school, Jim?" "Well, I've heard a few things. I tell you, there must be plenty of athletics to make school or college life interesting." "Athletics? My dear boy, didn't you see the big gym at Oak Knowe? Not a day passed but we girls performed our little feats on rings and bars, and as for games in the open air, Oak Knowe abounds with them. Look at me! Did you ever see a more rugged picture of health?" "You seem to be in good condition, all right," Jim confessed. "_Seem_ to be? I _am_," corrected Dorothy. "Well, just as you say. I won't argue the point. I'm very glad to know you've become interested in athletics. That's one good thing Miss Muriel Tross-Kingdon has done for you, anyway." "Jim, I don't like your tone. Do you mean to insinuate that otherwise my course at Oak Knowe has been a failure?" "No, no, Dorothy; you misunderstood me. You've benefited greatly, no doubt--at least, you've upheld the honor of the United States in a school almost filled with English girls. And that's something to be proud of." "Not all were English, Jim. Of course, Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard and her chum, Laura Griswold, were members of the peerage. But the majority of the girls were just everyday folks like you and I have been used to associating with all our lives. Even Millikins-Pillikins was more like an American than an English girl." "'Millikins-Pillikins'!" sniffed Jim. "What a name to burden a girl with!" "Oh, that's only a nickname; her real name is Grace Adelaide Victoria Tross-Kingdon." "Worse and more of it!" "Jim!" she protested sternly. "I beg your pardon, Dorothy--no offense meant. Millikins-Pillikins is related to Miss Muriel Tross-Kingdon, I suppose?" "Certainly." "Well, it may be all right," sighed the thoroughly practical Jim, "but this putting a hyphen between your last two names looks to me like a play for notoriety." Dorothy's eyes flashed fire as she turned a swift gaze upon him. "Now, look here, Jim Barlow, we've been fast friends for years, and I don't want to have a falling out, but you shall not slander my friends. And please remember, sir, that the last two words in _my_ name are connected by a hyphen, then see if you can't bridle your tongue a while." Dorothy, plainly displeased, turned and looked out of the car window. But she did not see the green fields, or the cool-looking patches of woodland that were flashing past; she was wondering if she had spoken hastily to her boy chum, and whether he would resent her tone. But Jim, after a moment's silence, became duly humble. "I--I'm very sorry I said that, Dorothy," he began, slowly. "I--I'm sure I'd forgotten the hyphen in your own name. I was just thinking of those English girls. I'm positive that when they met you they felt themselves far above you, and it just makes my American blood boil--that's all!" Dorothy turned in time to catch a suspicious moisture in Jim's eyes, and the warm-hearted girl immediately upbraided herself for speaking as she had. "You're true blue, Jim! I might have known how you meant it, and that you wouldn't willingly slander my friends. And, just to show you that I believe in telling the truth, I'll admit that Gwendolyn was a hateful little spitfire when I first entered the school. But finally she grew to know that in the many attributes which contribute to our happiness there were girls in the world just as well off as she. Gradually she came around, until, at the end, she was one of my warmest friends." Dorothy went on to relate how she had saved Gwendolyn from drowning, and how, in turn, the English girl had saved Dorothy from a terrible slide to death down an icy incline. "Well, that wasn't bad of her," admitted Jim. "But she couldn't very well stand by and see you perish--anyway, you had saved her life, and she felt duty bound to return the compliment." "Please believe, Jim, that she did it out of the fullness of her heart." "Well, if you say so," the boy returned, reluctantly. Both looked up at this juncture to find Ephraim standing in the aisle. The eyes of the old colored man contained a look of unbounded delight, and it was not difficult to see that his pleasure was caused by the anticipated return, within the next few hours, to Old Bellvieu and Mrs. Calvert. "Well, Ephy," said Dorothy, "soon we'll see Aunt Betty again. And just think--I've been away for nine long months!" "My, Miss Betty'll suttin'ly be glad tuh see yo' once moah, 'case she am gittin' tuh a point now where yo' comp'ny means er pow'ful lot tuh her. Axin' yo' pawdon, lil' missy, fo' mentionin' de subjeck, but our Miss Betty ain't de woman she were befor' yo' went away las' fall. No, indeedy! Dar's sumpthin' worryin' her, en I hain't nebber been able tuh fin' out w'at hit is. But I reckon hit's some trouble 'bout de ole place." "I'll just bet that's it," said Jim. "You remember we discussed that last summer just before we went sailing on the houseboat, Dorothy?" "Yes," said the girl, a sad note creeping into her voice. "Something or somebody had failed, and Aunt Betty's money was involved in some way. I remember we feared she would have to sell Bellvieu, but gradually the matter blew over, and when I left home for Oak Knowe I had heard nothing of it for some time. The city of Baltimore has long coveted Bellvieu, you know, as well as certain private firms or individuals. The old place is wanted for some new and modern addition I suppose, and they hope eventually to entice Aunt Betty into letting it go. Oh, I do wish the train would hurry! I'm so anxious to take the dear old lady in my arms and comfort her that I can scarcely contain myself. Don't you think, Jim, there will be some way to save her all this worry?" "We can try," answered the boy, gravely. The way he pursed up his lips, however, told Dorothy that he realized of what little assistance a boy and girl would be in a matter involving many thousands of dollars. "Let's wait and see. Perhaps there is nothing to worry over after all." "Lor' bress yo', chile--dem's de cheerfulest wo'ds I eber heered yo' speak. An' pray God yo' may be right! De good Lord knows I hates tuh see my Miss Betty a-worryin' en a-triflin' her life erway, w'en she'd oughter be made comf'table en happy in her las' days. It hain't accordin' tuh de Scriptur', chillen--it hain't accordin' tuh de Scriptur'." And with a sad shake of his head the faithful old darkey moved away. A moment later they heard the door slam and knew that he had gone to the colored folks' compartment in the car ahead. "Ephy is loyalty personified," said Dorothy. "His skin is black as ink, but his heart is as white as the driven snow." The boy did not answer. He seemed lost in thought, his eyes riveted on the passing landscape. Dorothy, too, looked out of the window again, a feeling of satisfaction possessing her as she realized that she was again in her beloved South. On every hand were vast cotton fields, the green plants well above ground, and flourishing on account of the recent rains. Villages and hamlets flashed by, as the limited took its onward way toward the great Maryland city which Dorothy Calvert called her home. "Oh, Jim, see!" the girl cried, suddenly, gripping her companion's arm, and pointing out of the window. "There is the old Randolph plantation. We can't be more than an hour's ride from Baltimore. Hurrah! I'm so glad!" "Looks like a 'befor' de war' place," Jim returned, as he viewed the rickety condition of what had once been one of Maryland's finest country mansions. "Yes; the house was built long before the war. It was owned by a branch of the famous Randolphs, of Virginia, of whom you have heard and read. Aunt Betty told me the story one night, years ago. I shall never forget it. There was a serious break in the family and William Randolph moved his wife and babies away from Virginia, vowing he would never again set foot in that state. And he kept his word. He settled on this old plantation, remodeling the house, and adding to it, until he had one of the most magnificent mansions in the South. Aunt Betty frequently visited his family when a young girl. That was many years before the Civil War. When the war finally broke out, William Randolph had two sons old enough to fight, so sent them to help swell the ranks of the Confederate Army. One was killed in battle. The other was with Lee at Appomattox, and came home to settle down. He finally married, and was living on the old plantation up to ten years ago, when he died." "What became of the father?" queried the interested Jim. "Oh, he died soon after the war, without ever seeing his brothers in Virginia, they say. The son, Harry Randolph, being of a sunny disposition, though, finally resolved to let bygones be bygones, and some years after his father's death, he went to see his relatives in the other state, where he was received with open arms. How terrible it must be to have a family feud, Jim!" "Terrible," nodded the boy. "Just think how I'd feel if I were to get mad at Aunt Betty and go to Virginia, or New York to stay, never to see my dear old auntie again on this earth. Humph! Catch me doing a thing like that? Well, I reckon not--mo matter how great the provocation!" Jim smiled. "Not much danger of your having to do anything like that," he replied. "Aunt Betty loves you too much, and even if you did, you could go back to Mother Martha and Father John." "Yes; I could, that's true. But life would never seem the same, after finding Aunt Betty, and being taken to her heart as I have. But let's not talk of such morbid things. Let us, rather, plan what we shall do for a good time this summer." "Humph!" grunted the boy. "Reckon I'll be having a good time studying 'lectricity. There's work ahead of me, and I don't dare allow myself to forget it." "But, Jim, you are going home with me for a vacation. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, or, at least, that's what I've always been taught to believe." "I know, Dorothy; but I've got a living to make." The serious note in Jim's voice made Dorothy turn in some surprise. "Why, Jim Barlow, how you talk! You're not old enough to strike out for yourself yet." A note of authority crept unconsciously into Dorothy's tones. "Yes; I am. Lots of boys younger than I have gone out to wrestle with the world for a livelihood, and I reckon I can do the same." "But Dr. Sterling won't let you, I'm sure." "Humph! A lot Dr. Sterling has to say about _that_!" "But you would surely regard his advice as worth something?" "Yes; a great deal. His advice is for me to learn electricity--to learn it thoroughly from the bottom up. To do that I shall have to serve as an apprentice for a number of years. The pay is not great, but enough to live on. I've made up my mind, Dorothy, so don't try to turn me from my purpose." Dorothy Calvert looked with pride on this manly young fellow at her side, as she recalled her first meeting with him some years before. At that time she had been living with Mother Martha and Father John on the Hudson near Newburgh. Jim, the "bound boy," had been Mrs. Calvert's protégé, and had finally worked his way into the regard of his elders, until Dr. Sterling had taken him under his protecting wing. The doctor, a prominent geologist, had endeavored to teach the boy the rudiments of his calling, and Jim had proved an apt pupil, but had shown such a yearning toward electricity and kindred subjects that the kindly doctor had purchased for him some of the best books on the subject. Over these the boy had pored night and day, rigging up apparatus after apparatus, that he might experiment with the great force first discovered in its primitive form by Benjamin Franklin, and later given to the world in such startling form by Morse and Edison. "I shall never try to turn you from your purpose, Jim," said Dorothy. "I feel that whatever you attempt will be a success. You have it in you, and in your lexicon there is no such word as fail. When do you begin your apprenticeship?" "In Baltimore this month, if I can find a place." "Oh, Jim, won't that be fine? I'll tell Aunt Betty the moment we arrive. Perhaps some of her friends will know of an opening. I'm sure some of them will, and we'll have you always with us." "That sounds good to me. I've written Dr. Sterling to send my books and electrical apparatus by freight to Bellvieu." "Then we'll give you a fine, large room all to yourself, where you can set up your laboratory." Dorothy's enthusiasm began to communicate itself to Jim, and soon he had launched himself into an exposition of electricity and its uses, with many comments on its future. So engrossed were both boy and girl in the discussion that they did not hear Ephraim, who came silently down the aisle and stood in a respectful attitude before them. "S'cuse me, please, Miss Dorot'y, en Mistah Jim, but p'raps yo' don't know dat we's almos' tuh de Baltimore station." Dorothy threw a quick glance out of the window. "Oh, so we are! See, Jim! There's the old Chesapeake, and it's a sight for sore eyes. Now, for old Bellvieu and Aunt Betty!" There was a hasty gathering of satchels and paraphernalia as the train drew into the big station. The hum of voices outside, mingled with the shouts of the cab drivers and the shrill cries of the newsboys, met their ears as they descended from the coach. Through the throng Ephraim led the way with the luggage, Dorothy and Jim following quickly, until finally, in the street, the girl descried a familiar carriage, on the top of which a young colored boy was perched. "Hello, Methuselah Bonaparte Washington! Don't you know your mistress?" cried Dorothy, running toward him. This was probably the first time Dorothy had ever called him anything but "Metty," by which nickname he was known at Bellvieu, where he had always lived, and where he had served as Aunt Betty's page and footman since he was old enough to appreciate the responsibilities of the position. His eyes glowed with affection now, as he viewed his little mistress after many months' absence. Descending from his perch on the carriage, he bowed low to Dorothy, his face wreathed in a smile of such broad proportions that it seemed his features could never go back into their proper places. "Lordy, lil' missy, I's suah glad tuh sot mah eyes on yo' once mo'. Ole Bellvieu hain't eben been interestin' sence yo' lef las' fall." "Do you mean that, Metty?" cried the girl, her heart warming toward the little fellow for the sincerity of his welcome. "Yas'm, lil' missy, I suah does mean hit. An' I hain't de only one dat's missed yo'. Mrs. Betty done been habin' seben fits sence yo' went off tuh school, an' as fo' Dinah en Chloe, dey hain't smiled onct all wintah. Dey'll all be glad tuh see yo' back--yas'm, dey suah will!" "And how is Aunt Betty?" the girl asked, a little catch in her voice. Instinctively she seemed to dread the answer. Aunt Betty was getting old, and her health had not been of the best recently. "She's pow'ful pooh, lil' missy, but I jes' knows she'll git plenty ob strength w'en she sees yo' lookin' so fine en strong." "Well, take us to her," said Dorothy, "and don't spare the horses." "Yas'm--yas'm--I'll suah do dat--I'll suah do dat!" Through the narrow, crowded streets of old Baltimore the Calvert carriage dashed, with Dorothy and Jim inside, and Ephraim keeping company with Metty on the box. Metty chose a route through the dirtiest streets, where tumbledown houses swarmed with strange-looking people, who eyed the party curiously; but this was the shortest way to the great country home of the Calverts. Soon the streets grew wider, the air purer, then the Chesapeake burst into view, the salty air refreshing the tired occupants of the carriage as nothing had done for days. Finally, the glistening carriage and finely caparisoned horses sped on a swift trot through the great gateway at Bellvieu, and Dorothy, leaning out of the window, saw Aunt Betty standing expectantly on the steps of the old mansion. Home at last! CHAPTER II AT OLD BELLVIEU AGAIN "Oh, Aunt Betty, Aunt Betty!" cried Dorothy, as she leaped from the carriage and dashed across the lawn toward the steps, followed more leisurely by Jim. "I just can't wait to get to you!" Aunt Betty gave an hysterical little laugh and folded the girl in her arms with such a warmth of affection that tears sprang into Dorothy's eyes. "My dear, dear child!" was all the old lady could say. Then her lip began to tremble and she seemed on the verge of crying. Dorothy took the aged face between her two hands and kissed it repeatedly. She forgot that Jim was standing near, waiting for a greeting--forgot everything except that she was home again, with Mrs. Elisabeth Cecil Somerset-Calvert, the best and dearest aunt in the world, to love and pet her. "Break away! Break away!" cried Jim, after a moment, forcing a note of gayety into his voice for Aunt Betty's sake. "Give a fellow a chance for a kiss, won't you, Dorothy?" "Certainly, Jim; I'd forgotten you were with me," was the girl's response. "You, as well as Dorothy, are a sight for sore eyes," cried Aunt Betty, pleased at the warm embrace and hearty kiss of her one-time protégé. "And we're glad to be here, you bet!" Jim replied. "A long, tiresome journey, that, Aunt Betty, I tell you! The sight of old Bellvieu is almost as refreshing as a good night's sleep, and that's something I stand pretty badly in need of about now. And just gaze at Dorothy, Aunt Betty! Isn't she looking well?" "A perfect picture of health, Jim. Had I met her in a crowd in a strange city, I doubt if I should have known her." "Oh, Aunt Betty, surely I haven't changed as much as that," the girl protested. "You don't realize how you've grown and broadened, and--" "Broadened? Oh, Aunt Betty!" "Broadened, not physically, but mentally, my dear. I can see that my old friend, the Bishop, took good care of you, and that Miss Tross-Kingdon has borne out her well-established reputation of returning young ladies to their relatives greatly improved both in learning and culture." "Well, auntie, dear, I'm satisfied if you are, and now, let me take off my things. I'm so tired of railroad trains, I don't care to see another for months." "Well, you've had your work, and now you shall have your play. I do not mean that you shall be shut up in this hot city all summer without a bit of an outing. What would you say to a--oh, but I'm ahead of my story! I'll tell you all this when you are rested and can better decide whether my plans for your vacation will please you." "Oh, auntie, tell me now--don't keep me in suspense!" "Young ladies," said Aunt Betty, regarding her great-niece half-severely over her glasses, "should learn to control their curiosity. If allowed to run unbridled, it is apt, sooner or later, to get them into trouble." "But, auntie, I want to know!" Just the suggestion of a pout showed itself on Dorothy's lips. "What a pretty mouth! And so you shall know." "You're the best auntie!" Two white arms went around Mrs. Calvert's neck and the pouting face was wreathed in smiles. "But not now," concluded Aunt Betty. "Oh!" The disappointed tone made Aunt Betty smile, and she winked slyly at Jim, as she observed: "Isn't it wonderful what a lot of interest a simple little sentence will arouse?" "I've never yet met a girl who wasn't overburdened with curiosity--and I s'pose I never shall," was Jim's response. "It's the way they're built. Aunt Betty, and I reckon there's no help for it. Not changing the subject, but how do I reach my room?" "Ephy will show you. It's the big room on the east side. Everything is ready for you. When you have washed and freshened up a bit you may join Dorothy and I on the lawn." "Very good; but don't wait for me. I may decide to take a snooze, and when I snooze I'm very uncertain. Traveling always did tire me out." Ephraim, with Jim's suit case, led the way up the broad stairs of the Calvert mansion, the boy following. "Heah we is, sah," said the colored man, after a moment. He paused to throw open the massive door of a room. "Dis yeah room am de very bestest dis place affords. Youse mighty lucky, Mistah Jim, tuh be relegated tuh de guest chambah, en I takes dis ercasion to congratulate yo'." "Thank you, Ephy. But, being a guest, why should I not have the guest chamber?" and Jim's eyes roamed admiringly over the old-fashioned but richly-furnished apartment. "No reason 'tall, sah--no reason 'tall. I hain't sayin' nuffin'. But dis suah am er fine room." The suit case was resting on the floor by the wardrobe, and Ephraim was carefully unpacking the boy's clothes, and putting them in their proper places, while Jim, glad to be rid of his coat, which he termed "excess baggage," was soon puffing and blowing in a huge bowl of water, from where he went for a plunge in the tub. "Lordy, Mistah Jim," the colored man chuckled, following him to the door of the bathroom, "hit suah looks as though yo' was a darkey, en all de black had washed off." "That's some of the smoke and cinders acquired during our journey from Canada. Don't forget that you have them on you, too, Ephy, only, being as black as ink, they don't show up so well." "Yas'r, yas'r, I reckon dat's right." Old Ephraim continued to chuckle at frequent intervals. "Yo' suah is er great boy, Mistah Jim!" "Thank you, Ephy." "A-washin' yo' face en haid in de wash bowl, den climbin' intuh de tub fo' tuh wash de rest. Dat's w'at I calls extravagantness." He straightened up suddenly. "Now, sah, yo' clothes is all laid out nice, sah. Is dar anyt'ing moah I kin do?" "Nothing, Ephy--nothing. You've done everything a gentleman could expect of his valet. So vamoose!" "Huh?" "Get out--take your leave--anything you want to call it, so you leave me alone. I'm going to take a nap, and when I wake up I'll be as hungry as a bear." "Well, I reckon we kin jes' about satisfy dat appetite, chile. If dar's anyt'ing mah Miss Betty hain't got in de way ob food, I hain't nebber diskivered hit yet." So Ephraim left Jim to his own devices, and went down to the servants' quarters, where he literally talked the arms off of both Chloe and Dinah, while Metty stood by with wide-open mouth, as he listened to Ephraim's tale of his adventures in Canada. In the meantime, Dorothy and Aunt Betty were in the former's big front room, and the girl, too, was removing the stains of the journey, keeping up an incessant chatter to Mrs. Calvert, the while. "I was perfectly delighted with Oak Knowe," she said, "and most particularly with your friend, the Bishop, who received me with open arms--not figuratively, but literally, Aunt Betty--and gave me such a good send-off to Miss Tross-Kingdon that I'm sure she became slightly prepossessed in my favor." Dorothy then told of her examination by Miss Hexam, and how well she had gone through the ordeal, despite the fact that she had been dreadfully nervous; her examination in music, and her introduction to the other scholars; the antipathy, both felt and expressed for her by Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard, a member of the British peerage, who led the student body known as the "Peers"; of her introduction to the "Commons," the largest and wildest set in the school, who were all daughters of good families, but without rank or titles. "And I can see my mischievous girl entering into the pranks of the 'Commons,'" smiled Aunt Betty. "I only hope you did not carry things with a high hand and win the disapproval of Miss Tross-Kingdon." "Occasionally we did," Dorothy was forced to admit. "But for the most part the girls were a rollicking lot, going nearly to the extreme limits of behavior when any fun promised, but keeping safely within the rules. There is no doubt, Aunt Betty, but that Miss Tross-Kingdon was secretly fonder of us than of the more dignified 'Peers.'" Then Aunt Betty must know the outcome of the dislike expressed for Dorothy by Gwendolyn Borst-Kennard, so the girl recounted her subsequent adventures, including her rescue of Gwendolyn from the water, and the English girl's brave act in saving Dorothy from a frightful slide down a precipice. "Just think! You were in deadly danger and I knew nothing of it," said Aunt Betty, a sternly reproving note in her voice. "But think, dear Aunt Betty, of the worry it would have caused you. It was all over in a few moments, and I was safe and sound again. If I had written you then, you would have felt that I was in constant peril, whereas my escape served as a lesson to me not to be careless, and you would have worried over nothing." "Perhaps you are right, Dorothy; at any rate, now I have you with me, I am not going to quarrel. I'm sure your adventure was merely the result of being thoughtless." "It was. And Gwendolyn's rescue was simply magnificent, auntie. Her only thought at that moment seemed for me." "We will try to thank her in a substantial manner some day, my dear." "I should dearly love to have her visit me at Bellvieu, if only to show the cold, aristocratic young lady the warmth and sincerity of a Southern reception." "And perhaps you will have the opportunity. But not this summer. I have other plans for you." "Now, you are arousing my curiosity again," said Dorothy, in a disappointed tone. "Please, Aunt Betty, tell me what is on your mind." "All in good time, my dear." "Has it--has it anything to do with Uncle Seth?" the girl queried, a slight tremor in her voice. Somehow, she felt that the death of the "Learned Blacksmith," with whom Aunt Betty had been so intimate for years, had been responsible in a measure for the present poor state of her health. "Yes; it has to do with your Uncle Seth, poor man. His death, as you have probably imagined, was a great shock to me. I felt as though I had lost a brother. And then, the news of his demise came so suddenly. It was his dearest wish that you become a great musician. You will remember how he encouraged and developed your talent while we were at Deerhurst, arranging with Mr. Wilmot to give you lessons? He has frequently expressed himself as not being satisfied with your progress. Shortly before his death I had a letter from him, in which he urged me to employ one of the best violin teachers in Baltimore for you at the end of your course at Oak Knowe. I feel it is a small favor, to grant, dear, so if you are still of the notion that you were intended for a great violinist, I have decided to give you a chance to show your mettle." "Dear Aunt Betty," said the girl, earnestly, putting an arm affectionately around the neck of her relative, "it is the dearest wish of my life, but one." "What is the other wish, Dorothy?" "That you be thoroughly restored to health. Then, if I can become perfect on my violin, I shall be delighted beyond measure." "Oh, my health is all right, child, except that I am beginning to feel my age. It was partly through a selfish motive that I planned this outing in Western Maryland." "An outing in Western Maryland! Oh, and was that the secret you had to tell me?" "Yes; the South Mountains, a spur of the famous Blue Ridge range, will make an ideal spot in which to spend a few weeks during the summer months." "It must be a beautiful spot," said the girl. "I love the mountains, and always have. The Catskills especially, will always be dear to me. When do we start, auntie?" "As soon as you have perfected your arrangements with Herr Deichenberg, and have rested sufficiently from your journey." "Herr Deichenberg? Oh, then you have already found my teacher?" "Yes; and a perfect treasure he is, or I miss my guess. Do you remember David Warfield in 'The Music Master,' which we saw at the theater a year ago?" "Indeed, yes, auntie. How could one ever forget?" "Herr Deichenberg is a musician of the Anton Von Barwig type--kind, gentle, courteous--withal, possessing those sterling qualities so ably portrayed in the play by Mr. Warfield. The Herr has the most delightful brogue, and a shy manner, which I am sure will not be in evidence during lesson hours." "And I am to be taught by a real musician?" "Yes." "What a lucky girl I am!" "If you think so, dear, I am pleased. I have tried to make you happy." "And you have succeeded beyond my fondest expectations. There is nothing any girl could have that I have wanted for, since coming to live with you. You are the finest, best and bravest auntie in the whole, wide world!" "Oh, Dorothy!" "It's true, and you know it. It's too bad other girls are not so fortunate. To think of your having my vacation all planned before I reached home. I said I am tired of railroad trains, but I've changed my mind; I am perfectly willing to ride as far as the South Mountains and return." "But in this instance we are not going on a train, my dear." "Not going on a train?" queried Dorothy, a blank expression on her face. Aunt Betty shook her head and smiled. "Now, I've mystified you, haven't I?" "You surely have. The trolleys do not run that far, so how--?" Dorothy paused, perplexed. "There are other means of locomotion," said Aunt Betty in her most tantalizing tone. "Yes; we might walk," laughed the girl, "but I dare say we shall not." "No; we are going in an automobile." "In an automobile? Oh, I'm so glad, auntie. I--I--" Dorothy paused and assumed a serious expression. "Why, auntie, dear, wherever are we to get an automobile? You surely cannot afford so expensive a luxury?" "You are quite right; I cannot." "Then--?" "But Gerald and Aurora Blank have a nice new car, and they have offered to pilot our little party across the state." "Then I forgive them all their sins!" cried Dorothy. "Somehow, I disliked them when we first met; and you know, dear auntie, they _were_ rude and overbearing during the early days on the houseboat." "But before the end of the trip, through a series of incidents which go a long way toward making good men and women out of our boys and girls, they learned to be gentle to everybody," Aunt Betty responded, a reminiscent note in her voice. "I remember, we discussed it at the time." "I must say they got over their priggishness quickly when they once saw the error of their ways," said Dorothy. "Yes. Gerald is growing into a fine young man, now. You know his father failed in business, so that he was forced to sell the houseboat, and that Uncle Seth bought it for you? Well, Gerald has entered into his father's affairs with an indomitable spirit, and has, I am told, become quite an assistance to him, as well as an inspiration to him to retrieve his lost fortunes. The Blanks have grown quite prosperous again, and Mr. Blank gave the auto to Gerald and Aurora a few weeks since to do with as they please." "I'm glad to hear of Gerald's success. No doubt he and Jim will get along better this time--for, of course, Jim is to be included in our party?" "Indeed we should never go a mile out of Baltimore without him!" sniffed Aunt Betty. "It was expressly stipulated that he was to go. Besides Jim, Gerald, Aurora, and ourselves, there will be no one but Ephraim, unless you care to invite your old chum, Molly Breckenridge?" "Oh, auntie, why do you suggest the impossible?" Dorothy's face went again from gay to grave. "Dear Molly is in California with her father, who is ill, and they may not return for months." "I'd forgotten you had not heard. Molly returned east with her father some two weeks since, hence may be reached any time at her old address." "That's the best news I have heard since you told me I was to study under Herr Deichenberg," Dorothy declared. "I'll write Molly to-day, and if she comes, she shall have a reception at Bellvieu fit for a queen." Molly and Dorothy had first met during Dorothy's schooldays at the Misses Rhinelanders' boarding academy in Newburgh, where they had been the life of the school. Their acquaintance had ripened into more than friendship when, together, they traveled through Nova Scotia, and later met for another good time on the western ranch of the railroad king, Daniel Ford. More than any of her other girl friends Dorothy liked Molly, hence the news that she had returned east, and that she might invite her to share the outing in the South Mountains, caused Dorothy's eyes to glow with a deep satisfaction. "And now that we have discussed so thoroughly our prospective outing," said Aunt Betty, "we may change the subject. It remains for me to arrange an early meeting for you with Herr Deichenberg. The Herr has a little studio in a quiet part of the city which he rarely leaves. It is quite possible, however, that I can induce him to come to Bellvieu for your first meeting, though I am sure he will insist that all your labors be performed in his own comfortable domicile, where he, naturally, feels perfectly at home. "I visited the studio some weeks ago--shortly after I received your Uncle Seth's letter, in fact. The Herr received me cordially, and said he would be delighted to take a pupil so highly recommended as Miss Dorothy Elisabeth Somerset-Calvert." "To which I duly make my little bow," replied the girl, dropping a graceful curtsey she had learned from Miss Muriel Tross-Kingdon. "My dear Dorothy, that is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen you do. As Ephraim would express it, it is 'puffectly harmonious.' Indeed, you _have_ improved since going to Canada, and it pleases me immensely." Aunt Betty's admiration for her great-niece was so thoroughly genuine that Dorothy could not refrain from giving her another hug. "There, there, dear; you overwhelm me. I am glad to be able to pay you an honest compliment. I have no doubt you have acquired other virtues of which I am at present in ignorance." "Aunt Betty, you're getting to be a perfect flatterer. And what about the vices I may have acquired?" Aunt Betty smiled. "They are, I am sure, greatly in the minority--in fact, nothing but what any healthy, mischievous girl acquires at a modern boarding school. Now, in my younger days, the schoolmasters and mistresses were very strict. Disobedience to the slightest rule meant severe punishment, and was really the means of keeping pent up within one certain things from which the system were better rid. But I must go now and dress. When you have rested and completed your toilet, pass by my room and we'll go on the lawn together." With a final kiss Aunt Betty disappeared down the hall, leaving Dorothy alone with her thoughts. "Dear old auntie," she murmured. "Her chief desire, apparently, is for my welfare. I can never in this world repay her kindness--never!" Then, seized with a sudden inspiration, she sat down at her writing desk by the big window, overlooking the arbor and side garden, and indicted the following letter to her chum: "_My Darling Molly:_ "Heavy, heavy hangs over your head! You are severely penalized for not writing me of your return. But to surprise your friends was always one of your greatest delights, you sly little minx! So I am not holding it up against you. I'll even the score with you some day in a way you little imagine. "Well, well, well, you just can't guess what I have to tell you! And I'm glad you can't, for that would take away the pleasure of the telling. Aunt Betty has planned a fine outing for me in the South Mountains, which, as you know, form a spur of the Blue Ridge range in Western Maryland. We are to be gone several weeks, during which time who can say what glorious adventures we will have? "You are going with us. I want your acceptance of the invitation by return mail, Lady Breckenridge, and I shall take pleasure in providing a brave knight for your escort in the person of one Gerald Blank, in whose automobile we are to make the trip. He has a new seven-passenger car given him by his father, and, in the vulgar parlance of the day, we are going to 'make things hum.' It is only some sixty miles to the mountains, and we expect to be out only one night between Baltimore and our destination. Besides yourself, Aunt Betty and I, there will be only Gerald, Aurora, his sister, Jim Barlow, and Ephraim, who will be camp cook, and general man-of-all-work. "Now write me, dear girlie, and say that you will arrive immediately, for I am just dying with anxiety to see you, and to clasp you in my arms. Jim is already here, having traveled to Canada with Ephy to bring me safely home. As if a girl of my mature age couldn't travel alone! However, it was one of Aunt Betty's whims, she being in too ill health to come herself, so I suppose it is all right. Dear auntie will improve I feel sure--now that I am back. That may sound conceited, but I assure you it was not meant to. We are just wrapped up in each other--that's all. The outing will do her good, and will, I am sure, restore in a measure her shattered health. "And oh, I forgot to tell you! I am to have violin lessons after my vacation from the famous Herr Deichenberg, Baltimore's finest musician, whom Aunt Betty had especially engaged before my return. No one can better appreciate than you just what this means to me. My greatest ambition has been to become a fine violinist, and now my hopes bid fair to be realized. I know it rests with me to a great extent just how far up the ladder I go, and am resolved that Herr Deichenberg, before he is through with me, shall declare me the greatest pupil he has ever had. It takes courage to write that--and _mean_ it--Molly, dear; but if we don't make such resolves and stick to them, we will never amount to much, I fear. "My first meeting with the Herr Professor will be within the next few days, and I am looking eagerly forward to the time. Aunt Betty says he has the dearest sort of a studio in a quiet part of the city, where he puts his pupils through a course of sprouts and brings out all the latent energy--or, temperament, I suppose you would call it. "Well, Molly, dear, you must admit that this is a long letter for my first day home, especially when I am tired from the journey, and have stopped my dressing to write you. So don't disappoint me, but write--or wire--that you are starting at once. Tell the dear Judge we hope his health has improved to such an extent that you will be free from all worry in the future. Remember us to your aunt, and don't forget that your welcome at old Bellvieu is as everlasting as the days are long. "Ever your affectionate "DOROTHY." "There! I guess if that don't bring Miss Molly Breckenridge to time, nothing will." Dorothy put the letter in a dainty, scented envelope, stamped and addressed it, and laid it on her dresser where she would be sure to carry it down to Ephraim when she had dressed. An hour later, when the declining sun had disappeared behind the big hedge to the west of Bellvieu, and the lawn was filled with cool, deep shadows, Dorothy and Aunt Betty settled themselves in the open air for another chat. CHAPTER III DOROTHY MEETS HERR DEICHENBERG The arrival of Herr Deichenberg at Bellvieu was looked forward to with breathless interest by Dorothy, and calm satisfaction by Aunt Betty, whose joy at seeing her girl so well pleased with the arrangements made for her studies, had been the means of reviving her spirits not a little, until she seemed almost like her old self. The day following Dorothy's return Ephraim was sent to the musician's studio with a note from Mrs. Calvert, telling of the girl's arrival, and suggesting that possibly the first meeting would be productive of better results if held at Bellvieu, where the girl would be free from embarrassment. Here, too, was a piano, the note stated, and Herr Deichenberg, who was also an expert on this instrument, might, if he desired, test Dorothy's skill before taking up the work with her in earnest in his studio. Ephraim returned in the late afternoon, bringing a written answer from the music master, in which he stated that it was contrary to his custom to visit the homes of his pupils, but that in the present instance, and under the existing circumstances, he would be glad to make an exception. He set the time of his visit at ten the following morning. Dorothy awoke next day with a flutter of excitement. To her it seemed that the crucial moment of her life had come. If she were to fail--! She crowded the thought from her mind, firmly resolved to master the instrument which is said by all great musicians to represent more thoroughly than any other mode of expression, the joys, hopes and passions of the human soul. Breakfast over, with a feeling of contentment Dorothy stole up to her room to dress, the taste of Dinah's coffee and hot biscuits still lingering in her mouth. As the minutes passed she found herself wondering what Herr Deichenberg would look like. She conjured up all sorts of pictures of a stoop-shouldered little German, her final impression, however, resolving itself into an image of "The Music Master's" hero, Herr Von Barwig. Would he bring his violin? she wondered. It was a rare old Cremona, she had heard, with a tone so full and sweet as to dazzle the Herr's audiences whenever they were so fortunate as to induce him to play. Descending finally, arrayed in her prettiest gown, a dainty creation of lawn and lace, Dorothy found Aunt Betty awaiting her. "Never have I seen you dress in better taste, my dear!" cried Mrs. Calvert, and the girl flushed with pleasure. "The Herr, as you have perhaps surmised, is a lover of simple things, both in the way of clothes and colors, and I am anxious that you shall make a good impression. He, himself, always dresses in black--linen during the warmer days, broadcloth in the winter. Everything about him in fact is simple--everything but his playing, which is wonderful, and truly inspired by genuine genius." "Stop, auntie, dear, or you will have me afraid to meet the Herr. After holding him up as such a paragon, is it any wonder I should feel as small and insignificant as a mouse?" "Come, come, you are not so foolish!" "Of course, I'm not, really--I was only joking," and Dorothy's laugh rang out over the lawn as they seated themselves on the gallery to await the arrival of the guest. "But I do feel a trembling sensation when I think that I am to meet the great Herr Deichenberg, of whom I have heard so much, yet seen so little." "There is nothing to tremble over, my dear--nothing at all. He is just like other men; very ordinary, and surely kind-hearted to all with whom he comes in contact." As they were discussing the matter, Jim and Ephraim came around the corner of the house, their hands full of fishing tackle. "Well, Aunt Betty," greeted the boy, "we're off for the old Chesapeake to court the denizens of the deep, and I'm willing to wager we'll have fish for breakfast to-morrow morning." He pulled off his broad-brimmed straw hat and mopped a perspiring brow. "Don't be too sure of that," returned Aunt Betty. "Fish do not always bite when you want them to. I know, for I've tried it, many's the time." "Mah Miss Betty suah uster be er good fisher-woman," quoth Ephraim, a light of pride in his eyes. "I've seen her sot on de bank ob de Chesapeake, en cotch as many as 'leben fish in one hour. Big fellers, too--none ob yo' lil' cat-fish en perch. Golly! I suah 'members de time she hooked dat ole gar, en hollered fo' help tuh pull 'im out. Den all de folks rush' up en grab de line, en ole Mistah Gar jes' done come up outen de watah like he'd been shot out ob er gun." Slapping his knees at the recollection, Ephraim guffawed loudly, and with such enthusiasm that Aunt Betty forgot her infirmities and joined in most heartily. "The joke was on me that time, Ephy," she finally said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "But we landed old 'Mistah Gar,' which I suppose was what we wanted after all." "Wish I might hook a gar to-day," said Jim. "En like as not yo' will, chile, 'case dem gars is mighty plentiful in de bay. Hardly a day go by, but w'at two or t'ree ob 'em is yanked outen de sea, en lef' tuh dry up on de bank." "Well, we'll try our hand at one if possible. Good-by, Dorothy! Good-by, Aunt Betty. Have plenty of good things for lunch," were Jim's parting words, as he and Ephraim strode off down the path toward the gate. "We will be as hungry as bears when we get back, and I'm smacking my lips now in anticipation of what we're going to have." "Go along!" said Aunt Betty. "You're too much trouble. I'll feed you on corn bread and molasses." But she laughed heartily. It pleased her to see Jim enjoying himself. "Oh, maybe I'll cook something nice for you," she called after him--"something that will make your mouth water sure enough." "Yum yum! Tell me about it now," cried Jim. "No; I'm going to surprise you," answered the mistress of Bellvieu, and with a last wave of their hands, Jim and the old darkey disappeared behind the big hedge. They were hardly out of sight before the figure of a little, gray-haired man walked slowly up to the gate, opened it, and continued his way up the walk, and Dorothy Calvert, her heart beating wildly, realized that she was being treated to her first sight of the famous music master, Herr Deichenberg. As the Herr paused before the steps of the Calvert mansion, hat in hand, both Mrs. Calvert and Dorothy arose to greet him. Dorothy saw before her a deeply intellectual face, framed in a long mass of gray hair; an under lip slightly drooping; keen blue eyes, which snapped and sparkled and seemed always to be laughing; a nose slightly Roman in shape, below which two perfect rows of white teeth gleamed as Herr Deichenberg smiled and bowed. "I hope I find you vell dis morning, ladies," was his simple greeting. [Illustration: "HERR DEICHENBERG." "_Dorothy's Triumph._"] "Indeed, yes, Herr," Aunt Betty responded, offering her hand. "I am glad to see you again. This is the young lady of whom I spoke--my great-niece, Dorothy Calvert." "H'm! Yes, yes," said the Herr, looking the girl over with kindly eye, as she extended her hand. Then, with Dorothy's hand clasped tightly in his own, he went on: "I hope, Miss Dorothy, dat ve vill get on very good togedder. I haf no reason to believe ve vill not, an' perhaps--who knows?--perhaps ve shall surprise in you dat spark of genius vhich vill make you de best known little lady in your great American land." "Oh, I hope so, Herr Deichenberg--I hope so," was the girl's fervent reply. "It has been my greatest ambition." The Herr turned to Aunt Betty: "She iss in earnest, Madame; I can see it at a glance, and it iss half de battle. Too many things are lost in dis world t'rough a lack of confidence, and de lack of a faculty for getting out de best dat iss in one." The Herr sank into one of the deep, comfortable rockers on the gallery, near Aunt Betty, as Dorothy, at a signal from her aunt, excused herself and went in search of Dinah, with the result that mint lemonade, cool and tempting, was soon served to the trio outside, greatly to the delight of the Herr professor, who sipped his drink with great satisfaction. After a few moments he became quite talkative, and said, after casting many admiring glances over the grounds of old Bellvieu: "Dis place reminds me more than anything I have seen in America, of my fadder's place in Germany. De trees, de flowers, de shrubs--dey are all de same. You know," he added, "I live in Baltimore, dat iss true, yet, I see very little of it. My list of pupils iss as large as I could well desire, und my time iss taken up in my little studio." "But one should have plenty of fresh air," said Aunt Betty, "It serves as an inspiration to all who plan to do great things." "Dat sentiment does you credit, madame. It iss not fresh air dat I lack, for I have a little garden in vhich I spend a great deal of time, both morning und evening--it iss de inspiration of a grand estate like dis. It makes me feel dat, after all, there iss something I have not got out of life." There was a suspicious moisture in the Herr's eyes, brought there, no doubt, by recollections of his younger days in the Old Country, and Aunt Betty, noticing his emotion, hastened to say: "Then it will give us even greater pleasure, Herr Deichenberg, to welcome you here, and we trust your visits will be neither short nor infrequent." "Madame, I am grateful for your kindness. No one could say more than you have, and it may be dat I vill decide to give Miss Dorothy her lessons in her own home, dat ve may both have de inspiration of de pretty trees und flowers." "Aside from the fact that I am anxious to see your studio," said the girl, "that arrangement will please me greatly." "It vill please me to be able to show you my studio, anyvay," said the Herr. "How long have you been in America?" Aunt Betty wanted to know, as the Herr again turned toward her. "I came over just after de Civil War. I was quite a young lad at de time und a goot musician. I had no difficulty in finding employment in New York City, vhere I played in a restaurant orchestra for a number of years. Den I drifted to Vashington, den to Baltimore, vhere I have remained ever since." "And have you never been back across the water?" asked Dorothy. "Yes; once I go back to my old home to see my people. Dat was de last time dat I see my fadder und mudder alive. Now I have few relatives living, und almost no desire to visit Germany again. America has taken hold of me, as it does every foreigner who comes over, und has made of me vhat I hope iss a goot citizen." The talk then drifted to Dorothy's lessons. Herr Deichenberg questioned her closely as to her experience, nodding his head in grave satisfaction as she told of her lessons from Mr. Wilmot at Deerhurst. Then, apparently satisfied that she would prove an apt pupil, he asked to be allowed to listen to her playing. So, at Aunt Betty's suggestion, they adjourned to the big living-room, where Dorothy tenderly lifted her violin from its case. As she was running her fingers over the strings to find if the instrument was in tune, she noticed Herr Deichenberg holding out his hand for it. She passed it over. The old German gave it a careful scrutiny, peering inside, and finally nodding his head in satisfaction. "It iss a goot instrument," he told her. "Not as goot as either a Cremona or a Strad, but by all means goot enough to serve your purpose." "It was a present from my Uncle Seth," said Dorothy, "and I prize it very highly, aside from its actual value." "Und so you should--so you should," said the Herr. "Come, now,"--moving toward the piano. "You read your music of course?" Dorothy admitted that she did. The Herr, sitting on the stool before the large, old-fashioned instrument, struck a chord. "Tune your instrument with me, und we vill try something you know vell. I shall then be able to judge both of your execution und your tone. There iss de chord. Ah! now you are ready? All right. Shall we try de 'Miserere' from 'Il Trovatore?' I see you have it here." Dorothy nodded assent. Then, from somewhere in his pocket, Herr Deichenberg produced a small baton, and with this flourished in his right hand, his left striking the chords on the piano, he gave the signal to play. Her violin once under her chin, the bow grasped firmly in her hand, what nervousness Dorothy had felt, quickly vanished. She forgot the Herr professor, Aunt Betty--everything but the music before her. Delicately, timidly, she drew her bow across the strings, then, when the more strenuous parts of the Miserere were reached, she gathered boldness, swaying to the rhythm of the notes, until a light of positive pleasure dawned in Herr Deichenberg's eyes. "Ah!" he murmured, his ear bent toward her, as if to miss a single note would be a rare penance. "Ah, dat iss fine--fine!" Suddenly, then, he dropped his baton, and fell into the accompaniment of the famous piece, his hands moving like lightning over the keys of the piano. Such music Aunt Betty vowed she had never heard before. With a grand flourish the Herr and Dorothy wound up the Miserere, and turned toward their interested listener for approval. And this Aunt Betty bestowed with a lavish hand. "I am proud indeed to know you and to have you for a pupil," the music master said, turning to Dorothy. "You have an excellent touch and your execution iss above reproach, considering de lessons you have had. I am sure ve shall have no trouble in making of you a great musician." Flushing, partly from her exertions, partly through the rare compliment the great professor had paid her ability, the girl turned to Aunt Betty and murmured: "Oh, auntie, dear, I'm so glad!" "And I am delighted," said Aunt Betty. "That is positively the most entrancing music I have ever heard." Herr Deichenberg showed his teeth in a hearty laugh. "She shall vait until you have practiced a year, my little girl," he said, winking at his prospective pupil. "Den who shall say she vill not be charmed by vhat she hears? But come," he added, sobering, "let us try somet'ing of a different nature. If you are as proficient in de second piece as in de first, I shall have no hesitation in pronouncing you one of de most extraordinary pupils who has ever come under my observation." Dorothy bowed, and throwing her violin into position, waited for the Herr professor to select from the music on the piano the piece he wished her to play. "Ah! here iss 'Hearts und Flowers.' Dat iss a pretty air und may be played with a great deal of expression, if you please. Let me hear you try it, Miss Dorothy." Again the baton was waved above the Herr professor's head. The next instant they swung off into the plaintive air, Dorothy's body, as before, keeping time to the rhythm of the notes, the music master playing the accompaniment with an ease that was astonishing. In every movement the old German showed the finished musician. Twice during the rendition of the piece did he stop Dorothy, to explain where she had missed the fraction of a beat, and each time, to his great satisfaction, the girl rallied to the occasion, and played the music exactly as he desired. The ordeal over at last, Herr Deichenberg was even more lavish in his praise of Dorothy's work. "Of course, she iss not a perfect violinist," he told Aunt Betty. "Ve could hardly expect dat, you know. But for a young lady of her age und experience she has made rapid progress. Herr Wilmot, who gave de first lessons had de right idea, und there iss nothing dat he taught her dat ve shall have to change." Out on the broad gallery, as he was taking his leave, the professor looked proudly at Dorothy again. "I repeat dat I am glad to meet you und have you for a pupil. Vhen shall de first lesson be given?" Dorothy threw a quick glance at Aunt Betty. "Not for at least four weeks, Herr Deichenberg," said that lady. "Eh? Vhat!" cried the old music master. "Not for four veeks! Vhy iss it dat you vait an eternity? Let us strike vhile de iron iss hot, as de saying has it." "But, Herr, my little girl has just returned from a winter of strenuous study at the Canadian school of Oak Knowe, and I have promised her a rest before she takes up her music." "If dat iss so, I suppose I shall have to curb my impatience," he replied, regretfully. "But let de time be as short as possible. If you are going avay, please notify me of your return, und I vill manage to come to Bellvieu to give Miss Dorothy her first lesson. But don't make it too long! I am anxious--anxious. She vill make a great musician--a great musician. So goot day, ladies. It has been a pleasure to me--dis visit." "Let us hope there will be many more, Herr Deichenberg," said Aunt Betty. They watched the figure of the little music teacher until it disappeared through the gate and out of sight behind the hedge. Then they turned again to their comfortable rockers, to discuss the visit and Dorothy's future. "Oh, Aunt Betty," confessed the girl, "I was terribly nervous until I felt my violin under my chin. It seemed to give me confidence, and I played as I have never played before. Somehow, I felt I could not make a mistake. I'm so glad the Herr professor was pleased. Isn't he a perfect dear? So genteel, so polished, in spite of his dialect--just the kind of a man old Herr Von Barwig was in 'The Music Master.'" Dinah came out on the gallery to say that Dorothy was wanted at the 'phone. "Oh, I wonder who it can be?" said the girl. "I didn't think any of my friends knew I was home." She hastened inside, and with the receiver at her ear, in keen anticipation murmured a soft: "Hello!" "Hello, Dorothy, dear! How are you?" It was a girl's voice and the tones were familiar. "Who is this? I--I don't quite catch the--! Oh, surely; it's Aurora Blank!" "You've guessed it the first time. I only learned a few moments ago that you were home. I'm just dying to see you, to learn how you liked your trip and the adventures you had at school. You'll tell me about them in good time, won't you, Dorothy?" "Why, yes, of course. On our camping trip, perhaps." "Won't that be jolly? Papa says we're to stay in the mountains as long as we like--that's what he bought the auto for. Gerald and I have been planning to start the first of the week if you can be ready." "Oh, I'm sure we can. I'll speak to Aunt Betty and let you know." "Do so, and I'll run over to Bellvieu to-morrow to discuss the details. Did that nice boy, Jim Barlow, return to Baltimore with you?" "Yes; he is going with us on the trip--at least, Aunt Betty said he was included in the invitation." "Indeed he is! I like him immensely, dear--lots more than he likes me, I reckon." "Oh, I don't know!" "I'm sure of it." "Aurora, I'm afraid you're trying to make a conquest." "No, I'm not--honor bright. But he's a dear boy and you can tell him I said so." "I'll do that," said Dorothy, with a laugh. Then she said good-by and hung up the receiver. "I guess I won't!" she muttered, as she went out to join Aunt Betty again. "Jim Barlow would have a conniption fit if he ever knew what Aurora Blank had said." CHAPTER IV THE BEGINNING OF THE TRIP "I'm glad to see you again, Miss Blank. You'll find Dorothy waiting for you in the house." It was the following morning, and Jim had been roaming about the grounds when Aurora came in. At first he had seemed disinclined to be affable, for her actions on Dorothy's houseboat had been anything but ladylike, until, like many another young girl, she had been taught a lesson; but he decided to be civil for the Calverts' sake, at least. "But I want to see you, Jim," Aurora persisted. "You don't mind my calling you 'Jim,' do you?" "No." "And will you call me Aurora?" "If you wish." "I do wish. We're going on a long camping trip together, as I suppose you've heard." "Yes, and I want to thank you for the invitation." "You've decided to accept, of course?" "Yes. At first I didn't think I could; but Aunt Betty--Mrs. Calvert, that is--said if I didn't I'd incur her everlasting displeasure, so I've arranged to go." "I'm delighted to hear it. We just can't fail to have a good time." "I figure on its being a very pleasant trip, Miss Blank--er--I mean, Aurora." "You should see our new car, Jim. Papa presented it to Gerald and I, and it's a beauty. Gerald's coming over with it to-day to teach you and Ephraim how to run it. Then you can take turns playing chauffeur on our trip across country. I imagine if I were a boy that I should like nothing better." Jim's face brightened as she was speaking. "Thank you; I believe I will learn to run the machine if Gerald doesn't care." "Care? He'd better not! The machine is a partnership affair, and I'll let you run my half. But he won't object, and what's more, he'll be only too glad to lend you the car occasionally to take Mrs. Calvert and Dorothy riding." "I'll ask him when he comes over," said the boy. Electricity was Jim's chief hobby, but anything of a mechanical nature appealed to him. While a gasoline car uses electricity only to explode its fuel, Jim was nevertheless deeply interested, particularly as he had never been able to look into the construction of an auto as thoroughly as he would have desired. "When do we start?" he asked Aurora. "The first of next week, if it's all right with Mrs. Calvert and Dorothy." "Who dares talk of Dorothy when she is not present?" demanded that young lady, coming out on the gallery at this moment. "I believe this is a conspiracy." "Dorothy Calvert!" "Aurora Blank!" These sharp exclamations were followed by a joyous hug and a half dozen kisses, while Jim stood looking on in amusement. "Say, don't I get in that game?" he wanted to know. "If you wish," said Aurora, throwing him a coquettish glance. "No indeed!" laughed Dorothy. "Gentlemen are entirely excluded." She turned to her girl friend. "How well you are looking! And what a pretty dress!" "Do you like it, Dorothy? Mamma had it made for me last week. At first it didn't please me--the the front of the waist is so crazy with its pleats and frills." "Oh, that's what I liked about it--what first caught my eye. It's odd, but very, very pretty." "Excuse me!" murmured Jim. "The conversation grows uninteresting," and turning his back, he walked off down the lawn. He cast a laughing glance over his shoulder an instant later, however, shaking his head as if to say, "Girls will be girls." "Come into the house, Aurora, and tell me about yourself. What has happened in old Baltimore since I've been gone? Really, Aunt Betty and I have been too busy arranging for my music lessons, and with various and sundry other things to have a good old-time chat." "Things have been rather dull here. Gerald and I went with papa and mamma to the theaters twice a week last winter, with an occasional matinée by ourselves, but aside from that, life has been very dull in Baltimore--that is, until the auto came a few weeks since. Now we take a 'joy' ride every afternoon, with an occasional evening thrown in for good measure." "I am anxious to see your car, Aurora." "And I am anxious to have you see it." "It must be a beauty." "Oh, it is." Aurora leaned toward her friend. "Confidentially, Dorothy, it cost papa over four thousand dollars." "Just think of all that money to spend for pleasure!" cried Dorothy. "But then, it makes you happy, and I suppose that's what money is for." "Did you ask your aunt about starting on our trip the first of the week?" "Yes, and it's all right. We'll be ready. The only thing worrying me now is that I'm expecting to hear from one of my dearest girl chums, Molly Breckenridge--" "Oh, and is she going with us?" "Aunt Betty made me ask her. She said you wanted us to make up the party, and include Gerald and yourself." "That's the very idea. It's your trip, Dorothy, given in honor of your home-coming." "I'm sure that's nice of you, Aurora. And now let's discuss--" "Pawdon me, Miss Dorot'y," interrupted Ephraim, entering at this moment. "I--I--er--good mawnin', Miss Aurory." "Good morning, Ephy," Dorothy's visitor responded. "Has anyone told you that you are to become a chauffeur?" "W'at's dat, Miss Aurory? A show fer? A show fer w'at?" "A chauffeur, Ephy, is a man who drives an automobile." "One o' dem fellers dat sets up in de front seat en turns de steerin' apparatus?" "Exactly. How would you like to do that?" "I ain't nebber monkeyed round dem gasoline contraptions none, but I reckon I'd like tuh do w'at yo' say, Miss Aurory--yas'm; I jes' reckon I would." "Well, Gerald is coming over some time to-day to show you and Jim a few things about the car. You will take turns playing chauffeur on our camping trip, and he wants to give you a lesson every day until we leave." "Dat suah suits me," grinned the old negro. "But what did you want, Ephy?" Dorothy asked, recalling him suddenly to his errand. "Oh, Lordy, I done fergit w'at I come fo'. Lemme see--oh, yas'm, I got er lettah fo' yo'. Jes' lemme see where I put dat doggone--er--beggin' yo' pawdon, young ladies, I--Heah hit is!" The letter, fished from one of Ephraim's capacious pockets, was quickly handed over. "Oh, it's from Molly!" the girl cried, joyously, as she looked at the postmark. "Let's see what she has to say. You may go, Ephy." "Yas'm," responded the darkey, and with an elaborate bow he departed. Tearing open the letter, Dorothy read as follows: "_My Dear, Dear Chum_:-- "To say that I was overwhelmed by your very kind invitation, is to express it mildly, indeed. The surprise was complete. I had hardly realized that you had finished your course at Oak Knowe and returned to Baltimore. It is strange how rapidly the time flies past. "We returned from California, some two weeks ago. Papa is greatly improved in health, for which we are all duly thankful. He says he feels like a new man and his actions bear out his words. He wants to know how his little Dorothy is, and when she is coming to visit him. In the meantime, it may be that I shall bring the answer to him in person, as I am leaving next Monday evening for Baltimore, and you, dear Dorothy! "How glad I shall be to see you! As for the camping trip, you know how I love an outing, and this, I am sure, will prove to be one of the finest I have ever had. So, until Tuesday morning, when you meet me at the train, _au revoir_. "Ever your loving "MOLLY." "I just know I shall like Molly Breckenridge," cried Aurora. "Such a nice letter! I have already pictured in my mind the sort of girl that wrote it." "You will like her, Aurora, for she is one of the best girls that ever breathed. Full of mischief, yes, but with a heart as big as a mountain. There is nothing she won't do for anyone fortunate enough to be called her friend." "I hope to be that fortunate before our trip is over. But you, Dorothy, are more than friend to her. One can see that from the tone of the letter." "I hope and believe I am her dearest chum." "You are _my_ dearest chum, Dorothy Calvert!" cried Aunt Betty, who entered the room at this moment. "How are you, Aurora?" "Very well, Mrs. Calvert." "I am glad to see you here. My little girl will get lonesome, I fear, unless her friends drop in frequently to see her." "I shall almost live over here, now Dorothy is home," replied Aurora. "Indeed she will," Dorothy put in. "And Molly is coming, Aunt Betty!" Triumphantly she displayed the letter. "Ephy just brought it. Want to read it?" "No; you can tell me all about it, dear," returned Aunt Betty. "I am glad she is coming. I hardly thought she'd refuse. Judge Breckenridge is very good to her, and allows her to travel pretty much as she wills." The talk turned again to the camping trip. "I have talked it over with Dorothy," said Aunt Betty, "and we have decided to be ready Wednesday morning." "That will suit us fine," said Aurora. "Gerald couldn't get away before Tuesday anyway, and another day will not matter. He thinks we'd better plan to start in the cool of the morning, stopping for breakfast about eight o'clock at some village along the route--there are plenty of them, you know. The recent rains have settled the dust, and the trip, itself, should be very agreeable. We figure on being out only one night, reaching the mountains on the second morning. Of course, if pushed, the auto could make it in much less time, but Gerald thinks we'd better take our time and enjoy the ride." "The plan is a fine one," said Aunt Betty, "especially the getting away in the early morning, before the hot part of the day sets in." "I thoroughly agree with you, auntie," said Dorothy. "If we fail to find a village," Aunt Betty continued, "where we can get coffee and rolls, we will draw on our own supply of provisions and eat our breakfast en route. Or we can stop by the wayside, where Ephy can make a fire and I can make some coffee." "Oh, you make my mouth water," said Aurora, who knew that Aunt Betty Calvert's coffee was famous for miles around. Aurora took her leave a short while later, and hardly had she gone before Gerald Blank drew up in front of the Calvert place in his big automobile and cried out for Jim and Ephraim. Neither the boy nor the negro needed a second invitation. Each had been keen in anticipation of the ride--Jim because of his natural interest in mechanism of any sort; Ephraim because he felt proud of the title "chauffeur," which Aurora had bestowed upon him, and was curious to have his first lesson in running "dat contraption," as he termed it. "I tell you, Gerald, she's a dandy," said Jim, after the boys had shaken hands and made a few formal inquiries about the interval which had elapsed since last they met. As Jim spoke, his eye roamed over the long torpedo body of the big touring car. Straight from the factory but a few weeks since, replete with all the latest features, the machine represented the highest perfection of skilled mechanical labor. The body was enameled in gray and trimmed in white, after the fashion of many of the torpedo type of machines which were then coming into vogue. Seeing Jim's great interest, Gerald, who was already a motor enthusiast, went from one end of the car to the other, explaining all the fine points. "There is not a mechanical feature of the Ajax that has not been thoroughly proven out in scores of successful cars," he said. "Now, here, for instance, is the engine." Throwing back the hood of the machine, the boy exposed the mechanism. "That's the Renault type of motor, known as 'the pride of France,' and one of the finest ever invented. Great engineers have gone on record that the men who put the Ajax car together have advanced five years ahead of the times. You will notice, Jim, that the engine valves are all on one side. You're enough of a mechanician to appreciate the advantage of that. It makes it simple and compact, and gives great speed and power. We should have little trouble in traveling seventy miles an hour, if we chose." "Lordy, we ain't gwine tuh chose!" cried Eph. "Why, I thought you had the speed mania, Ephy," was Gerald's good-natured retort. "Don' know jes' w'at dat is, Mistah Gerald, but I ain't got hit--no, sah, I ain't got hit." "Now, Jim," Gerald continued, as they bent over to look under the car, "you see the gear is of the selective sliding type, which has been adopted by all the high grade cars. And back here is what they term a floating axle. The wheels and tires are both extra large--in fact, there is nothing about the car, that I've been able to discover, that is not the best in the business." "What a fine automobile agent you'd make, Gerald!" "Do you think so?" "Surely. You spiel it off like a professional. The only difference is, I feel what you say is true. I am greatly taken with that engine, and should like to see it run." "When we start in a moment, you shall have that pleasure. Of course, I could run it for you now, while the machine is standing still, but they say it's poor practice to race your engine. If you do so, the wear and tear is something awful." "I'd heard that, but had forgotten," said Jim. "Well, come on, now, and I'll take you and Ephy for a spin, and, incidentally, I'll teach you both how to run the car." Jim crawled into the front seat, Ephraim occupying the big five-passenger compartment in the rear. Gerald, after "cranking up," took his seat behind the steering wheel. "All ready, Ephy?" "Yas'r--yas'r." "Then we're off." The big Ajax started without a jar and moved almost noiselessly off down the road. The engine ran so smoothly that it was hard to imagine anything but an electric motor was driving the machine. Gerald knew Baltimore and its environs by heart. He did not enter the city immediately, however, but kept to the fine country roads which lay just outside. When a level stretch was reached once, he put her on the high speed, and Jim and Ephraim traveled for a few moments at a pace neither had ever experienced before--even on a railroad train. Finally, slowing down, Gerald said: "Now I'll change places with you, Jim, and you shall run the car." The change was quickly effected, Jim being eager to feel the big steering wheel in his grasp, his feet on the pedals in front, with the single thought in his mind that the Ajax was run and controlled by his hand alone. Gerald explained the points of starting, showing him the three speeds forward and the reverse; how to regulate his spark so as to keep the motor from knocking, especially on heavy grades; then how to advance the spark where the pull was slight, so as to make the motor work cooler and to use less gasoline. Jim admired Gerald's thorough knowledge of the car. It showed a side to the boy's nature that Jim had not suspected--in fact, the Gerald Blank who owned this auto was hardly the same boy who had caused so much dissension on the houseboat the summer before. "When you think you've had enough, we'll let Ephy try it," said Gerald. "I'd never get enough," smiled Jim. "So better let Ephy get a-hold right here and now." He good-naturedly resigned his post, and Ephraim soon found himself sitting in the chauffeur's seat, the big steering wheel almost touching his breast, his feet on the pedals. Then Gerald instructed him as he had Jim. When he told the old negro to press slowly on one of the pedals to make the machine slow down, Ephraim misunderstood his orders and pressed the wrong one, with the result that the speed remained undiminished, while the exhaust set up such a beating that Ephy turned a shade whiter. The joke was on him. No harm was done, and soon, when Gerald and Jim were through laughing at him, he began to show considerable agility in the handling of the car. "I'll give you both another lesson to-morrow," said Gerald, as, some seven miles out of the city, he took charge of the big machine and turned for the run back to Baltimore. Soon the engines began to sing as the car gathered headway. The road was clear ahead, hence Gerald felt no qualms about "speeding her up." He kept a close watch, however, for lanes and crossroads, twice slowing down for railway crossings, only to resume his former pace when on the other side. Trees and houses flashed past in hopeless confusion. A cloud of dust arose behind them, and mingled with the gaseous smoke that came from the rear of the machine. Through the city they went, now at a much lessened pace--in fact, at only eight miles an hour, which was the speed limit in the city--finally turning out along the shores of the Chesapeake toward old Bellvieu. Dorothy and Aunt Betty were sitting on the gallery when they drew up, and waved their hands at Gerald as he let Jim and Ephraim out and turned his machine toward home. "You are both chauffeurs now, I suppose?" queried Aunt Betty, as the pair came up the walk toward the house. "Ephraim is, at least," laughed Jim. "Yas'r, yas'r; I suah is," said Ephraim with a deep chuckle. "Dis yere joy ridin' business am gittin' intuh mah blood. Nebber ain't gone so fast in mah whole life as w'en Mistah Gerald done let dat blame contraption out. Lordy, but we jes' flew!" "Where did Jim come in?" Dorothy wanted to know. "Oh, Mistah Gerald teached him how tuh run de machine, en den he teached me. I tell yo' w'at, Miss Betty, I's gwine tuh be yo' shofer all right, en I's gwine tuh be a mighty good one, too." "He can hardly wait for Gerald to come back to-morrow," said Jim. "Then Gerald is coming back, is he?" asked Dorothy. "Yes; we can't learn to run his car in one lesson, you know. I reckon I haven't much call to talk about Ephy's enthusiasm, for the fever's in my blood, too." "That's what they call 'automobilitis,'" said Aunt Betty. "Well, whatever hit am, I's got it," said Ephraim, with a grave shake of his head. Then he emitted another chuckle and walked away. The next few days passed quickly. Gerald came each afternoon, as he had promised, and before the long-looked-for day arrived, both Jim and Ephraim were nearly as proficient in the use of the car as he. On Tuesday afternoon Molly Breckenridge arrived, as she had promised in her letter, Dorothy, Jim and Metty meeting the train with the barouche. To describe the meeting between the girls would be impossible. A bystander, observing the hugs and kisses they bestowed upon each other, might well have wondered who they were, to be so lavish with their affection. "You dear, good girl!" Dorothy kept saying, over and over, each word accented by another kiss. Molly surprised Jim by kissing him rapturously on the cheek, an act the boy did not like, but which he took with the good nature he knew would be expected of him. Later, in confidence, he confessed his displeasure to Gerald, which caused that young man to go off into a fit of merriment. "You're a funny fellow, Jim," he said, finally, when he had induced a sober expression to remain on his face. "Most fellows would go several miles out of their way to get a kiss from Molly Breckenridge. But you, with kisses thrust upon you, are angry. Well, that may be all right, but I don't understand it--hanged if I do!" But Jim vouchsafed no further comment. He only smiled and shook his head. CHAPTER V THE CAMP IN THE MOUNTAINS Old Bellvieu was early astir on Wednesday morning, the time set for the departure. At four o'clock, when the darkness without was still intense, Ephraim, who had been awakened by an alarm clock, went from door to door of the big mansion, arousing the inmates. The provisions and cooking utensils had been packed in baskets and were setting in the front hall, ready to be carried to the automobile when Gerald and Aurora should arrive. There was also a hamper containing extra clothes for Aunt Betty, Dorothy and Molly. It was two sleepy-eyed girls who came slowly down the back stairway to eat hominy, biscuits and coffee, prepared by Chloe and Dinah in the big kitchen--sleepy-eyed, because the chums had lain awake more than half the night talking over old times. Molly's trip to California had been told of to the most minute detail, and at the end of the discourse Dorothy had started on her adventures at Oak Knowe. Then to sleep at half past one, to rise at four! It was no wonder Dorothy said, as they entered the kitchen: "I feel like the last rose of summer. The next time you keep me awake till nearly morning, Molly Breckenridge, I'm going to be revenged." "The same to you, Dorothy Calvert," was Molly's retort. "You seem to have no regard for my condition after my long journey here. I needed rest, but you kept me awake all night with your constant chatter, telling me things that did not interest me." "I didn't!" "You did!" And so forth and so on. Then, when Chloe, Dinah and Metty, were staring open-mouthed, impressed with the fact that the young ladies had apparently descended in a very bad humor, both girls laughed, threw their arms about each other's neck, and concluded their performance with a resounding kiss. "My, how affectionate!" said Aunt Betty, who entered at this moment. "And what swollen eyes!" "Why, isn't that strange?" asked Dorothy, assuming an innocent look. "She says our eyes are swollen, Molly--and after all the sleep we had, too." Aunt Betty laughed. "Do you think, my dears, I did not hear you talking 'way into the night?" "Oh, did you, auntie?" "Yes; but it was your first night together, so I decided to say nothing. But come; let us eat, for Gerald and Aurora will shortly be here in the car." The girls needed no second invitation. The coffee, made by Chloe, after Aunt Betty's special recipe, was delicious, and served to revive the sleepy girls, while the biscuits, as Molly expressed it, "fairly melted in your mouth." The meal over, preparations for departure went forward rapidly, and when, at half past five, just as the sun was getting ready to peep above the distant horizon, the big touring car drew up in front of the place, Aunt Betty, the girls, Jim and Ephraim were all waiting on the gallery. "Ship ahoy! What ship is that?" cried Jim, cupping his hands at Gerald. "The good ship Ajax, out of Baltimore for the South Mountains. Four first and one second class cabins reserved for your party, Mr. Barlow." [Illustration: "THE PARTY CLIMBED INTO THE BIG MACHINE." "_Dorothy's Triumph._"] There was much good-natured badinage as the party climbed into the big machine. Molly and Aurora seemed to take to each other from the first, and Aunt Betty saw with no little satisfaction that the trip bade fair to be a happy one. When the baskets were all under the seats, or placed in the great trunk-like compartment on the rear of the machine, along with several large tent flaps and a coil of rope, the party waved a cheery good-by to Chloe, Dinah and Metty, Gerald started the Ajax, and they went bowling off down the smooth road on the first stage of their journey. Gerald occupied the driver's seat with Dorothy beside him. In the big rear seat were Aunt Betty, Molly and Aurora, while the smaller seats at either side were occupied by Jim and Ephraim. The city was just beginning to stir itself as the big car rolled through the main streets and out into the suburbs beyond. Soon the city limits were passed, and the great country highway, so enticing to Baltimore automobilists, lay before them. Straight toward the west Gerald drove the car, the miles being reeled off at a good rate of speed--all, in fact, that Aunt Betty would allow. "I'm no speed maniac," she told Gerald, in response to his query as to whether she cared to ride as fast as a railroad train. "I'm well satisfied at the present pace. I feel that it is as fast as we can go in perfect safety, and I have no desire to endanger the lives of the young ladies under my charge. This is not a limited, anyway, but just a slow train through Maryland." "I'll bear that in mind," the boy returned, smiling. Some miles further on the country grew rolling and hilly. Patches of dense timber were penetrated, and finally the machine shot out onto a broad plain which stretched away for many leagues toward the west. The sun was well up now, but the party had hardly felt its warmth. The big automobile, moving along at a fair rate of speed, created enough breeze to keep the occupants at a comfortable temperature. Dorothy and Molly, thoroughly awake now, and in no way missing the sleep they had lost, kept up an incessant chatter, Aurora and Aunt Betty occasionally chiming in. "I've never thought to ask, but what sort of sleeping quarters are we to have at the camp?" asked Molly. "Goodness me! I hadn't thought of that," said Aunt Betty. "Gerald, did you provide sleeping quarters for the lady guests?" "Yes, ma'am; there are several portable tent tops packed in the rear compartment." "Tent tops! Indeed, it seems to me we'll need some tent _sides_, too, if we are to sleep with any peace of mind." This caused a general laugh. "I've provided for that, too," said Gerald. "Don't worry. It was impossible to carry poles and stakes, however, so Jim and I will show our woodcraft by cutting them in the mountains where we camp." "I imagine we'll think of several things we've forgotten before we've been long at our destination," said Aurora. Dorothy uttered a startled exclamation. "My goodness! How you startled me," said Aunt Betty. "What's wrong?" "I've forgotten something already." "Now our troubles begin." Mrs. Calvert heaved a long sigh of resignation. "Well, what is it?" "My curling irons." "Pouff! I might have known you were starting a joke. You'll be lucky to have a comb and brush, young lady, let alone curling irons, and as for a mirror, I'm blessed if I believe we thought to bring one." "I have one," smiled Aurora. "It will do for all. We can take turns each morning combing our hair." "A fine idea," said Jim. "Every morning, I'll delegate myself as a sort of camp marshal to see that each of you has a turn at the mirror. So when you hear me call, 'Hey, Molly; you're next!' you want to bestir yourself." Ephraim, who had been silent most of the time since the car left the city, now burst into a loud guffaw. "Lordy, but I didn't imagine dis was gwine tuh be sich er ceremonious occasion. I done lef' mah curlin' irons tuh home, but maybe yo'-all will take pity on er pooh colored gem'man en allow him tuh comb his curly locks in front ob yo' solitary glass." "Of course, we will, Ephy," said Aurora--"especially after all that fine language. You shall have your turn--I'll see to that." It was eight o'clock when Gerald stopped the car in front of a small village inn. The community was just bestirring itself, and the inhabitants gazed long and curiously at the party. Addressing a middle-aged man who sat on the front steps of the hostelry, smoking a pipe, Gerald said: "How about breakfast for seven?" "Reckon we can accommodate you," was the reply, in a low drawl--"that is, if you ain't too particular what you eat." "Needn't worry about that. We're hungry--that's all. Some fresh milk and eggs, some crisp slices of fried bacon, a cup of coffee, and a few things of a similar nature will be more than sufficient." "You've just hit off my bill o' fare to a T," the man responded, grinning. "Come in and make yourselves at home, while I go tell Martha there's some extry mouths to feed." The members of the little camping party needed no urging, for the early morning ride had given them large appetites, which they were anxious to satiate. Soon the Ajax was standing silent in front of the building, while its occupants were grouped in the little parlor of the hotel, waiting the welcome call to breakfast. "There's a picture of George Washington," said Jim, as his glance roamed about the room. "Wonder if there's a village hotel in any part of the original thirteen states, which hasn't a picture of our immortal ancestor?" "Probably not," smiled Gerald. "Thomas Jefferson seems also to be a favorite. See, there he is, peeking at you from behind the what-not." "And there's Robert E. Lee, bless his heart," cried Dorothy, to whom the southern hero's name was the occasion for no little amount of reverence--thoughts that had been instilled in her mind by Aunt Betty, loyal southerner that she was. The hotel proprietor appeared on the scene a few moments later with the cheery remark: "You all can come into the dinin'-room now." He led the way through the hall and into a small, though comfortable, room, where the landlady had already begun to serve the breakfast. Their appetites sharpened by the ride, everyone did ample justice to the things which were put before them. Even Aunt Betty, usually a light eater, consumed three eggs, two glasses of milk and a plate of fried bacon, topping them off with a cup of strong coffee. "Whatever has come over you?" cried Dorothy in delight. "I never knew you to eat so much for breakfast, auntie, dear." "I just wanted it," was Aunt Betty's response, "and, wanting it, I see no reason why I should not have it. I have no intention of denying myself what sustenance I require." "Then never talk to me again about being an invalid!" cried the girl. "When I came back to Bellvieu I was led to believe that you were fast failing in health. But, as yet, I have seen no indication that you are not as hale and hearty as the best of us." "I feel some better--that I will freely admit." "And at the end of our camping trip you are going to feel better still. Who knows? You may take on ten or twelve pounds in weight." This from Jim. "Well, let us hope not. I am carrying now all the flesh I am able to put up with." Breakfast over at last, the party lost no time in re-embarking, and soon the big Ajax, given a new lease on life by reason of a sharp turn of the crank in front, was again speeding on its way. The car proved itself an excellent traveler. The roads were rough in many places, yet not once during the day did any trouble arise either from mechanism or tires. The machine proceeded at a steady gait until shortly after noon, when, in another village some forty odd miles from Baltimore, the party stopped for lunch. Here the supply of gasoline was replenished, Gerald having already been forced to draw upon his reserve. This was necessitated by his having forgotten to fill his tank before leaving home. "I don't know how I came to neglect such an important matter," he said to Jim. He seemed rather piqued. "Mistakes will happen, no matter what you are doing or where you are," was Jim's reply, intended to be consoling. "Suppose we had run out of gasoline between towns, though?" Gerald grinned at the thought. "But we didn't," he said. "Yes; but if we had?" "Well, some of us would have taken a little journey, to the nearest available supply, and brought some back with us--that's all. Fortunately, in these days of the automobile, an ample supply of gasoline may be found at any country store. There was a time when it was as hard as the mischief to get it." "How far can you run with one supply?" "Seventy-five miles, without the reserve, which is good for another forty." "This machine seems complete in every particular, with its reserve tank, and store box behind." "Surely. While called a touring car, it has many of the features of a roadster." "A roadster?" "Yes; a car built for traveling across country--one you can take long trips in--a car built to stand no end of wear and tear." "All right, boys!" Aurora called out at this moment. "We're through lunch. Let's be moving. You know we want to get as near the mountains as possible before putting up for the night." So on they went, the country spreading out before them in gentle undulations. The Ajax would climb a low hill to pass the pinnacle and go bowling down into some miniature valley, over foot-bridges and through grove after grove of pretty trees. It seemed that old Mother Nature had spread on the scenic touches with a master hand in this part of Maryland, and the occupants of the car thoroughly enjoyed themselves, particularly as the recent rains had soaked the dirt so thoroughly it had not yet had time to resolve itself again into dust. Farmers stopped to watch them, often to wave hat or handkerchief as they went flying past. To these salutations the girls took delight in replying, greatly to the disgust and chagrin of Jim Barlow. "Why, you don't even know them!" he said to Dorothy in a sternly reproving tone, when she chided him gently about a reproof he had just administered to Molly, who had become quite enthusiastic in her efforts to attract the attention of a young farmer lad who was plowing in a nearby field. "Neither do they know us," the girl responded. "Besides, Molly is her own mistress, and you have no right to tell her she may or may not do as she pleases." "But I can express my opinion on the subject," growled Jim. "This is a free country." "Ugh! He's a regular bear to-day, girls," said Aurora. "Let's leave him alone until he can be civil." Which made Jim grate his teeth in rage. He gradually cooled off, however, when he found that no one was paying any attention to him, and by the middle of the afternoon was laughing and chatting as gayly as ever. Villages appeared before their gaze every few miles, only to vanish behind them as they went down the main street, the hoarse-voiced horn sending out its warning to pedestrians. Their speed was clearly within the limits of what was required by law, however, so they experienced no trouble from country constables, as is often the case when automobile parties go on tour. Throughout the afternoon the big auto kept up its steady gait, reeling off mile after mile, until the sun had disappeared below the horizon. Just when dusk was ready to envelop the land they descried in the distance a good-sized town, and beyond it some miles the eastern spur of the South Mountains. "There, children, is where we will be camping if all goes well to-morrow," said Aunt Betty. "Sounds mighty good to me," said Gerald. "Here, Ephy, take hold of this steering wheel awhile. I'm going to stretch myself and gaze out over the country a bit." Ephraim, delighted at the confidence reposed in him by the boy, clambered into the front seat, while Gerald took one of the small seats in the rear compartment, facing Jim. Sometime later Ephraim guided the car into the main street of the village, and, at Aunt Betty's suggestion stopped before what seemed to be a hotel of the better class. Upon investigation accommodations were found to be so tempting, the party decided to spend the night. Gerald registered for the crowd, while Ephraim, with a stable boy belonging at the hotel, took the Ajax around to the rear where shelter might be had from the elements. Supper was served at seven-thirty in a large and commodious dining-room, and the campers sustained their reputations for ravenous eaters so well that the proprietor secretly wrung his hands in despair. Had these city folks come to eat him out of house and home? he wondered. He was glad when the meal was over, and the visitors had departed down the street in search of amusement before turning in. This amusement was found at the town hall, where a cheap theatrical company was offering the time-worn favorite, "Lady Audley's Secret." Even Aunt Betty enjoyed the old play which she had not seen for years, though she declared that the scene at the well gave her a fit of the "creeps." The company was a very mediocre one--in fact, an organization which made its living off of small town audiences, where the standard set is not so high, and a little less for the money does not seem to matter. To bed at eleven and up at six was the story of the night, as recorded by the master of ceremonies, James Barlow, who was the first to awaken in the morning, and who aroused Ephraim and told him to wake the others. The proprietor of the hotel, evidently fearing a repetition of the night before, was careful to put on the table only such food as he felt his guests should have, and when a second portion was asked for his solitary waiter was instructed to say that the concern was out of that particular dish. While Jim and Molly were hardly satisfied at being limited to but one batch of pan-cakes each, they were too eager to be on their way to register a protest. As soon as the sun had risen the South Mountains loomed up distinctly to the west, the purple haze which had enveloped them the night before being gone. Instead, the sun seemed to glint off the peaks like burnished gold. However, as Old Sol rose higher, this effect was gradually dissipated, and after a two hours' ride, during which the progress was very slow on account of the condition of the roads, the party found themselves in the foothills, with the mountains looming close at hand. A pretty sight lay before their eyes a short time later, when Gerald stopped the machine half way up the side of one of the mountains, and they gazed out over the valley, through which a silvery stream of water flowed merrily toward the Potomac. Then, their eyes thoroughly satiated, they began to look for a suitable place in which to make their camp. "Seems to me there's a desirable spot over there on that plateau," said Dorothy. "There are lots of fine shade trees, and we would have an excellent view of the valley. And then, if I am not mistaken, that path leading down the mountainside goes to yonder village, and it is just as well to be in close proximity to what supplies we may need." "That village is farther away than you think," said Jim. "Well, we'll ride over and look at the plateau, anyway," said Gerald. "Getting there is the next thing," said Molly. The way did appear difficult. The road they were on wound up and around the mountain, and it was only after a most diligent search that Gerald and Jim discovered another road leading off in another direction and finally crossing the plateau. They reached their destination some time later, and found the prospective camp-site even more satisfactory than they had expected. A vote of the party was taken, and it was unanimously decided to stay on this spot. "It will soon be noon," said Aunt Betty, at once assuming charge of arrangements. "So let's unload the things while the boys are fixing the tents. If we have good luck we shall have our lunch in good Camp Blank." "Oh, not Blank," said Aurora, with becoming modesty. "Why not call it Camp Calvert?" "I think Camp Blank sounds very nice," Aunt Betty made reply. "And I," said Dorothy. "Let's call it Camp Blank." "No," said Gerald; "the Blanks have nothing to do with it. This is Dorothy's party. It shall be called Camp Calvert." "I protest," said Dorothy. "It's no more my party than yours, Gerald Blank, even if it is given in honor of my home-coming." "It shall be Camp Calvert," Gerald persisted. "Well, we'll submit it to arbitration. Jim, you have taken no part in the controversy. Shall we name it Camp Blank or Camp Calvert?" "Neither," said Jim. "What!" cried Dorothy and Gerald in a breath. "Oh, come now, Jim!" This from Aunt Betty. "No," said Jim, "we'll call it neither. You've left the matter to me, so we'll call it Camp Breckenridge after Molly, but we'll make it Camp 'Breck' for short." "No, no," said Molly. "I shan't permit it." But Molly's protests were quickly overridden, and with the discussion at an end, the members of the party went about the various tasks they had set themselves to do. Getting a hand-ax from the tool box, Gerald took Jim and marched off into the woods, while Ephraim was delegated to stay behind and "tote" things for the ladies. First, an imaginary plan was drawn of the camp--just where the tents would go; where the camp-fire should be to get the best draught; which direction the breeze was coming from, so the tent flaps might be left back at night for the comfort of the sleepers; and the many other little details which a woman and several girls will always think of. By the time Gerald and Jim returned, bearing several tent poles and an armful of stakes, all matters had been definitely settled. The first tent was pitched between two huge oak trees, which threw their shade for yards around. The other, which was to house the boys and Ephraim, was placed a short distance to the rear in a clump of smaller trees, but within a few steps of the rear of the ladies' quarters. Once the tents were up, Ephraim was instructed to kindle a fire, which he did very quickly, his camping experience having been of a wide and varied nature. While the fire was blazing merrily as if to welcome the campers to the newly-organized Camp Breck, the mistress of Bellvieu bustled about in a nimble fashion for one of her years, directing the preparation of the meal. Molly was set peeling potatoes, while Dorothy and Aurora spread the table cloth in a level spot on the soft grass, and began to distribute the tin plates, steel knives and forks and other utensils which had been purchased especially for the camp. Soon affairs were moving merrily, and the party sat down to lunch shortly after one, half-famished but happy, little dreaming of the thrilling adventure which was to befall them ere another day had passed. CHAPTER VI A CRY IN THE NIGHT In the late afternoon, after the girls and Aunt Betty had taken their naps, Gerald suggested a jaunt down the mountainside toward the valley. The suggestion was eagerly accepted by Aurora, Dorothy, Molly and Jim. Aunt Betty agreed that she would stay with Ephraim to look after the camp, being unable to do the climbing which would be necessary on the return. No Alpine stocks had been brought, but Gerald and Jim again sallied forth with the hand-ax, the result being that in a short while the entire party was equipped with walking sticks. Telling Aunt Betty good-by, and warning Ephraim not to stray away from his mistress during their absence, they soon were off down the pathway leading toward the village in the valley. "I'll tell you, girls, there's some class to this outing," said Gerald, who, with Dorothy, led the way. Molly and Aurora, with Jim as escort, were close behind. "This is one of the most beautiful spots I have ever seen," said Molly. "The picturesque grandeur of the Rockies is missing, to be sure, but there is something fascinating about these low, quiet mountains. It makes one feel as if one could stay here forever and ever." "Come--don't get poetical, Molly," warned Jim. "This is a very modern gathering, and blank verse is not appreciated." "Nothing was farther from my thoughts than blank verse, Jim Barlow, and you know it!" "Sounded like blank verse to me," and Jim grinned. "You mustn't blame me for being enthused over such sights as these. If you do not experience the same sensation, there is something sadly deficient in your make-up." "That's right, Molly; rub it in," Dorothy said, over her shoulder. "Jim is entirely too practical--too prosaic--for this old world of ours. We simply must have a little romance mixed in with our other amusements, and poetry is naturally included." "Hopelessly overruled," murmured Jim. "So sorry I spoke. Go ahead, Molly; sing about the rocks and rills, the crags and--and--" "Pills?" suggested Aurora. "Well, anything you wish; I'm no poet." "You're no poet, and we all know it," hummed Aurora. "I dare you girls to go as far as the village!" cried Dorothy. "How about the boys?" Gerald wanted to know. "They are included in the dare, of course." "Well, I'll have to take the dare," said Molly. "That village is too far for me to-day." "Why, it's only a short way down the valley," Dorothy protested. "It's several miles, at least," said Jim. "Oh, come!" "Why, yes; distances are very deceptive in this part of the country." Dorothy could not be convinced, so the others decided to keep on until the girl realized that she had misjudged the distance, and asked to turn back. They did not know Dorothy Calvert. The path led down the mountainside and into a broad road which followed the bank of a stream. Somehow, when this point was reached, the village seemed no nearer. Dorothy uttered no protest, however. But the others exchanged glances, as if to say: "Well, I wonder will she ever get enough?" On they went till at last, at a great bend in the road, where lay a fallen log, Molly stopped for a rest. "You folks can go on," said she, seating herself on the fallen tree. "I'll wait here and go back with you." "And I," said Aurora, dropping down beside her. "Guess those are my sentiments, too," drawled Jim, as he languidly sat down beside the girls. "Well," said Gerald, "after our journey this morning, and the work I did in camp, I don't believe I want any village in mine, either." And he, too, sat down. Dorothy stood gazing at her friends, an amused expression on her face. "I suppose if the majority vote is to be listened to, I lose," she said. "I thought you all were mountain climbers, and great believers in exercise on a large scale. But I see I was mistaken. I yield to the rule of the majority; we will not go to the village to-day." Dorothy sat down. As she did so, the others burst into a roar of laughter. "Well, I don't see anything so funny," she said. "But perhaps that is because I am lacking a sense of humor." "No, it's not that," said Gerald. "We are laughing to see how stubbornly you give up a little whim. Nobody wanted to go to the village but you, yet you insisted that everyone go." "Oh, I didn't mean that like you took it, at all, Gerald," protested the girl, a slight flush creeping over her face. "We felt that, hence, knowing it could give you no real pleasure to go farther, and tire yourself and ourselves completely out, so that we would have to hire a conveyance to get back to camp, we decided to rebel, and stay here." "I imagine the fishing is good in this neighborhood," said Molly, who was looking out over the stream where the water ran gently between the rocks. It was as clear as glass, and the fish could be seen swimming about. "They catch a great many trout in these mountains, I've heard," said Jim. "Say we get some poles and try our luck before we go back, eh, Gerald?" "Surely," responded the person addressed. "I brought plenty of fishing tackle in the big chest on the back of the machine. I have also four poles in sections, each fitted with a fine reel and silk line. I wouldn't come on a camping trip like this without having a try at the fish, I assure you." When the party had rested sufficiently, the climb back to camp was begun, and even Dorothy was thankful that they had not gone to the village, realizing the truth of Gerald's words, that they would have needed a conveyance to get them back to their starting point. It was late afternoon when they reached the camp, to find that Aunt Betty and Ephraim had supper on the fire. And a fine supper it was, too--fine for camp life. When it was spread on the ground before them a short time later, they devoured it ravenously, which pleased Aunt Betty immensely, for she loved to see young folks eat. The meal over and the things cleared away, the young folks and Aunt Betty gathered before the ladies' tent where a fine view of the valley could be obtained, and for some little time were silent, as the wonderful glories of Mother Nature unfolded themselves. Before they realized it, almost, the day was gone--their first day in camp--and night was upon them. A gray light, mingling with the faint afterglow of twilight, showed clearly the outlines of the distant mountains. The stars blinked down from their heavenly dome and the air was cool and comfortable, thanks to the altitude. To the silent watchers it seemed that no skies were ever so deep and clear as those which overspread Camp Breck. "It would seem," said Aunt Betty, breaking a long silence, "that in making the stars, nature was bent on atoning in the firmament for a lack of beauty and brilliancy on the earth." "How like the Gates of Wonderland I read about when a wee child are these hills on such a night," said Dorothy reverently. "Stop!" warned Molly. "If you don't, Jim will soon be chiding you for becoming poetic." "No; this is different, somehow," said the boy. "It has gotten into my blood. I feel much as Dorothy does--a sensation I've never experienced before, though I've traveled through the Catskills till I know them like a book. Even the Rockies did not appeal to me in this way." "It is not the environment, but the viewpoint, Jim," Aunt Betty said. "The nights in the Catskills are just as beautiful as here; it happens that you have never thought of the wonders of nature in quite the same way in which you have had them brought home to you to-night. I daresay you will never spend another night in any mountains, however, without thinking of the transcendent beauty of it all." "There is something in the air that makes me feel like singing," said Gerald. "Then by all means indulge yourself," Dorothy advised. "Let's form a quartette," said Molly. "I can sing a fair alto." "And I can't sing anything--can't even carry an air," Aurora put in in a regretful voice. "But Gerald has a fine tenor voice, and perhaps Dorothy can take the soprano and Jim the bass." In this way it was arranged, Dorothy being appointed leader. "First of all, what shall we sing?" she wanted to know. "Oh, any old thing," said Jim. "No; not any old thing. It must be something with which we are all familiar." "Well, let's make it a medley of old Southern songs," suggested Gerald. "An excellent idea," said Aunt Betty, while Ephraim was so delighted at the suggestion that he clapped his hands in the wildest enthusiasm. So Dorothy, carrying the air, started off into "The Old Folks At Home." Never, thought Aunt Betty, had the old tune sounded so beautiful, as, with those clear young voices ringing out on the still air of the summer's night, and when the last words, Way down upon the Suwanee River, Far from the old folks at home, had died away, she was ready and eager for more. "Old Black Joe," followed, then "Dixie," and finally "Home, Sweet Home," that classic whose luster time never has or never will dim, and which brought the tears to her eyes as it brought back recollections of childhood days. Then, as if to mingle gayety with sadness, Ephraim was induced to execute a few of his choicest steps on a hard, bare spot of ground under one of the big oak trees, while Jim and Gerald whistled "Turkey in the Straw," and kept time with their hands. The old negro's agility was surprising, his legs and feet being as nimble, apparently, as when, years before as a young colored lad, he had gone through practically the same performance for Aunt Betty, then in the flower of her young womanhood. After this the party sought the tents, where, on blankets spread on the ground, covered by sheets, and with rough pillows under their heads, each member of the party sought repose. In one end of the tent occupied by Gerald and Jim slept old Ephraim, the watch-dog of the camp, who prided himself that no suspicious sound, however slight, could escape his keen ears in the night time. The slumber of the party was undisturbed during the early hours of the night, as, with the tent flaps thrown back, to allow the clear passage of the cool breeze off the valley, the occupants of both tents slept soundly. Sometime after midnight, however, the slumber of all was broken by a most startling incident. It was a cry of distress coming out of the night from farther down the mountainside--a cry so appealing in its pathos that Ephraim was on his feet, listening with open mouth, before the echoes had died away. Then, as he roused Gerald and Jim, the cry came again, reverberating over the mountain in trembling, piteous tones: "Oh, help me! Help me! Won't someone please help me? Oh, oh-h-h-h!" The last exclamation, drawn out in a mournful wail sent a thrill of pity through the hearts of the old negro and the boys. Dorothy heard the second cry, and she, too, felt the appeal of the voice, as she awakened the other inmates of the tent. The cry came again at short intervals. "What can it be?" someone asked. "Sounds to me like someone's lost their way," said Jim, as he and Gerald stood listening outside their tent. "Oh, Lordy! Maybe it's er ghost!" wailed Ephraim, whose superstitious fears the passing years had failed to dislodge. "Dat suah sound tuh me like de cry ob er lost soul." "Nonsense!" cried Gerald. "There's no such thing as a lost soul. And stop that sort of talk, Ephy. No matter what you think, there's no use scaring the women." "What are you boys going to do?" asked Dorothy, peeking out from behind the flap of her tent. "There's only one thing to do, when a voice appeals to you like that--investigate," said Jim. "Yes; we must find out who it is," Gerald readily agreed. "But you boys mustn't venture down the mountainside alone," said Aurora. "No telling what will happen to you. No, no; you stay here and answer the voice. Then maybe the person will be able to find his way to the camp." "I'm not so sure we want him in camp," said Aunt Betty, grimly. "Well, the least we can do is meet him half way," was Jim's final decision. Dorothy, who knew the boy, felt that further argument would be useless, particularly as Gerald seemed to agree with everything Jim said. "But you have no revolvers," protested Aurora. "It is nothing short of suicide to venture off into the darkness unarmed." "That's right; we didn't think to bring any fire-arms with us," Gerald said, turning to Jim. "But we'd have a hard time finding anything to shoot in the dark, so I reckon we may as well get a couple of stout clubs and see who that fellow is." Two poles that had been found too short for the purpose of erecting the tents lay near at hand, and searching these out, the boys bade Ephraim not to leave the women under any circumstances and started down the side of the mountain in the direction from whence the cries had come. "Help, help!" came the voice again, like a person in mortal terror. "Hello, hello!" Jim responded, in his deep bass voice which went echoing and re-echoing down the valley. "Where are you?" "Here!" came the quick response. "Come to me! Hurry! Hurry!" "Have patience and keep calling; we're moving in your direction. We'll find you," replied Jim in an encouraging tone. At short intervals the voice came floating up to them, getting louder and louder, until it seemed but a few yards away. The boys realized, however, that voices carry a great distance on a clear night, hence knew that they had not yet achieved the object of their search. Grasping their clubs tightly, they worked their way through the underbrush. The trees were scattered in places, letting a few beams of moonlight seep through, though the dark shadows were deceptive and no objects could be distinguished beyond their bare outlines. Soon, however, they were in close proximity to the voice, which appeared to be that of a young boy. Then, suddenly, as Jim called out again in an encouraging tone to know whom they were addressing, a form came staggering toward him out of the shadows, and someone grabbed him in frenzied madness, while great heart-rending sobs shook his frame. Startled at first, Jim realized that this was caused by fright, so instead of casting the person away as his instinct seemed to bid him, he threw his arms about the trembling form and tried to distinguish in the darkness who and what he was. What he felt caused a great feeling of pity to surge over him; for his hands encountered the slight form of a young lad, not more than twelve years old. Jim was astonished, and readily perceived why one so young should be racked with terror at being alone on the mountainside in the dead of night. "There, there," he said; "don't cry. It's all right. You're with friends." He turned to Gerald: "It's nothing but a boy. Scared most to death, I suppose." "What, a boy, and alone on the mountain at this hour?" "Strange, but true." "I don't understand it." "Neither do I. I suppose he's lost, or has run away from home. In either case, the best we can do is to get to camp with him as quickly as possible." Jim tried to draw the lad out--to get him to tell something of himself, but his only answer was more sobs, as the lad still quivered from fright. "Well, are you alone?" Jim asked. There was a hastily murmured: "Yes." "Do you want to go with us?" "Oh, yes, yes--don't l-l-leave m-m-me alone again!" "We'll not leave you alone. We have a camp near here and you're more than welcome." Gerald led the way back up the mountainside, Jim, his arm supporting the little fellow at his side, following as rapidly as the rough going would permit. It was no easy matter, getting back to camp, as they quickly discovered. As a matter of caution, of course, those at the camp would not allow any lights, so the boys were forced to pick their way through the woods with only the stars and a partly-obscured moon to guide them. The descent had been comparatively easy, but this was almost more than human endurance could stand. Several times great rocks impeded their progress and they were forced to go around them. They paused frequently to rest on account of the young boy, who seemed all but exhausted. The frightened lad continued his sobbing at intervals, his body shaking like one with the ague. He refused to talk, however, save to respond to an occasional question in a monosyllable. "Is that the camp, do you suppose?" Gerald inquired, suddenly, after they had climbed what seemed an interminable distance. Jim, following the motion of his arm, saw a bright patch of light; but as he looked this resolved itself into sky. Concealing their disappointment, they continued the ascent. At times they were almost tempted to cry out, but thoughts of the boy, and the fear that he had not been alone on the mountain, caused them to refrain. Finally, they reached the road by which that morning they had come upon the mountain. Now, at least, they were able to get their bearings, for the mountain to the east, the first one they had ascended after leaving the foothills in the auto, loomed up sentinel-like, through the moonlight. Forming their impressions by their distance from this mountain, the boys decided that they were nearly half a mile from camp. "Just think of all the climb we wasted," said Jim. "We might have been at camp twenty minutes ago had we been able to keep in the right direction." "Well, one thing is sure," Gerald responded; "we'll be able to find it now." They set off down the road, which, being composed of sand, was plainly visible in the moonlight, in spite of the deep shadows thrown by the trees on either side. Some moments later they made out the tents. This time there was no mistake, for, as they listened, they heard the murmur of voices. The girls and Aunt Betty were no doubt discussing their protracted absence. Probably suspecting that some harm had come to the boys they were afraid to make their presence known, and were talking in low, guarded tones. "Camp ahoy!" cried Gerald, suddenly. Then everyone screamed, and there was a scramble to strike a light, as they all crowded around the boys with eager questions. Ephy struck a light and by its fitful glare the girls saw the pale face of the lad Jim and Gerald had found on the mountain. "Here's the result of our trip," said Jim, as he led his burden forward. "In heaven's name!" cried Aunt Betty. "Who have you there, Jim Barlow?" "Ask me something easy, Aunt Betty. We found him alone on the mountain, half scared to death. He won't talk. He's been hysterical all the way back. Perhaps after a good night's rest he will be able to tell us who he is and where he came from." "You poor boy!" cried the sympathetic Dorothy. Then, moved by a sudden impulse, she threw her arms about his neck and drew him to her--an action which the lad seemed in no way to resent. The story of their adventure told, Gerald and Jim again sought their sleeping quarters, taking their newly-found friend with them. Before they went to sleep they induced him to tell his name, which was Len Haley. When they pressed him to know how he came to be alone so far from home, he shook his head and his lip trembled. That, he said, he would tell them in the morning. Fixing a comfortable place for him, the boys waited until he was sound asleep, before again closing their own eyes. Then, tired from the exertions of the day and night, they, too, dropped off to sleep, to the tune of old Ephraim's snores. CHAPTER VII UNWELCOME VISITORS While gathered about the breakfast table--if table, it could be called--the next morning, the campers heard the boy's story. Len Haley had by this time thoroughly recovered from his fright, and he related in a timid, halting fashion how he had come to be alone on the mountain in the dead of night. An orphan, living with his uncle, James Haley, near the little village of Armsdale in the valley, he had worked for years in a truck garden. Neither James Haley or his wife had experienced any affection for the lad, but seemed bent only upon making him carry on his young shoulders the burden of running their little farm. Len, a willing worker, had accepted his lot as a matter of course. But when the hours grew longer, and he was forced to rise before daylight to milk the cows and feed the horses, and was not allowed to retire until the same services had been performed late at night, with hours of drudgery in the field, during the intervening time, he had rebelled, only to be soundly beaten by his uncle, and told to return to his work under the penalty of being beaten till he was black and blue. The boy had stood this as long as he could. Then he resolved to run away. He kept this purpose to himself, however, waiting for the proper opportunity to present itself. The previous night James Haley had gone to the village about eight o'clock. Mrs. Haley was feeling badly, and it was necessary to fill a prescription at the drug store. Why Len was not selected for this mission he could not imagine, for usually his uncle took a keen delight in rousing him out of bed at all hours of the night. It had seemed to the boy to be an omen in his favor. James Haley apparently believed him to be asleep at the time of his departure for the village. The boy had really gone to bed, but lay there thoroughly dressed. Soon after his uncle left the farm, the boy had crept softly down the stairs in his stocking feet, then out of the house. Putting on his shoes out by the barn he had immediately struck out for the mountains, not realizing what a terrible thing it was for a boy to be alone in the woods in the night time. When finally this realization was brought home to him, he became frightened. But he gritted his teeth, resolved not to turn back. He knew full well that the beatings he had received in the past would be as nothing compared to what the future would hold in store, if James Haley ever laid hands on him again. He wandered on up the mountainside as the hour grew late, until, driven almost into hysterics by the dreadful lonesomeness about him, he had cried out for help, hoping, he said, to attract the attention of some people he knew lived in this vicinity. The first response to his cries had been Jim's "Hello!" So overjoyed was Len at hearing a human voice again that he had come near fainting. Now that the dreadful trip was a thing of the past, and the boy had an opportunity to think calmly over the matter, he feared that his cries had been heard in the valley, and it would be only the question of a few hours until his uncle would be searching the mountain. The sympathies of the entire party, particularly those of Dorothy and Aunt Betty, were with the unfortunate boy, and what action was to be taken to keep him out of his uncle's hands was to all a pertinent question. "Don't let them take me back there," Len begged, while they were discussing the matter. "I'd rather die--honest to goodness, I would!" "Oh, we just can't let you go back," was Aunt Betty's rather grim resolve. "It's against all the principles of human nature to stand by and see a young boy like you abused. You shall stay with us, Len; you shall be under our protection. We'll find some way to circumvent your uncle and keep you out of his hands." Tears came into the boy's eyes, and he flashed her a look of gratitude. "We might take Len back to Baltimore with us and find him a position," said Dorothy. "There is enough work at Bellvieu alone to keep him busy for many months," returned Aunt Betty. "Ephraim is getting old, and Metty is occupied with the care of the horses and cattle. Len shall be our yard boy for a while, if he desires." Len did desire, and did not hesitate to so express himself. He would work hard for Mrs. Calvert, he said, until he was old enough to strike out for himself. This part of the matter was soon settled to the satisfaction of all. It was then decided that Len should remain in the seclusion of one of the tents during the day, so that he would be out of sight from anyone approaching Camp Breck from either direction. Aurora had brought a bundle of reading matter, including several illustrated papers, and these were placed at Len's disposal. The boy had had several years of schooling previous to the death of his parents, and was a fair reader. Like most boys who have been restrained through one cause or another from reading all the books they desired, he was ready and anxious to devour anything that came his way. Jim and Gerald put their heads together, and resolved to circumvent James Haley should he appear on the scene in search of Len. "We'll lead him away from the camp," said Jim, "without telling him any deliberate untruths--send him off on a false scent. Aunt Betty is right, you know; we can't let him go back to a life like that." "No," said Gerald; "it would be a pity. If his uncle's treatment was bad enough to make Len take to the mountains in the night time, it must have been at least a mild sort of an inquisition." The boys congratulated themselves later on planning matters out in advance, for the forenoon was barely half gone when two horsemen rode out of the woods to the south of the camp and turned their horses in the direction of the tents. Jim was the first to see them. "Don't be startled, folks," he said, "and please don't turn and 'rubber,' for there are two men coming toward camp on horseback." "Oh!" gasped Molly. "Poor Len!" "Poor Len, nothing!" Jim returned. "I know it is hard for a girl to refrain from doing something she's been asked not to, but if you turn your head, Molly Breckenridge, or let on in any way that you've seen those horsemen, you need never call me your friend again. We must act like we haven't seen them, until they hail us. Ephraim, you sneak into the tent, without looking to the right or the left. Then hide Len under the cots or somewhere where they won't find him. Gerald and I will talk to the men when they arrive." The girls and Aunt Betty kept their presence of mind very well, considering the fact that they were laboring under no little excitement. Ephraim went carelessly into the tent, as Jim had bade him, where he concealed the runaway lad in a very natural manner under a heavy quilt. It mattered not that the weather was excessively warm this time of day; the old negro figured that the exigencies of the case demanded desperate measures, and as for Len, he accepted his punishment without a whimper. By the time the men had drawn rein before the tents, Ephraim was sitting calmly in a chair, an illustrated paper in his hand, puffing complacently at his pipe. "Good morning," greeted the larger of the two men. "Good morning," returned Jim, pleasantly. Then he and Gerald went forward to meet them. One of the riders, a rather pompous-looking individual, with a long, drooping mustache, dismounted and threw the reins over his horse's head. "I'm Sheriff Dundon of this county, boys," he said. "The gentleman with me is Mr. Haley. We're searching for a boy named Len Haley--Mr. Haley's nephew, in fact. He left his home down in the valley some time in the night. We thought perhaps you'd seen him." Jim and Gerald exchanged feigned glances of surprise, which was part of the plan they had mapped out to save Len. "It must have been him we heard cry out in the night," said Jim. "Yes," Gerald responded. "Too bad we didn't know it was only a boy." "You heard someone cry out in the night, then?" the sheriff asked, while the man on the horse eyed them keenly, and flashed curious glances about the camp. "Why, yes," Jim returned; "Old Ephraim, our darkey, woke us up in the night to hear some mournful noises which he said came from somewhere down the mountainside. We listened and heard someone crying out at intervals for help. But having no fire-arms, and not knowing whether it was a drunken man or a lunatic, we were afraid to venture very far away from camp." "What time was this?" "Must have been in the neighborhood of two o'clock." The sheriff shot a questioning glance at Mr. Haley. "It was Len; no doubt about it," said that worthy, nodding. "He's only a kid and I s'pose he got scared when he found himself alone in the dark." "You don't know which way he was going at that time?" asked the sheriff, turning again to the boys. "It would be hard to say. At one time the cries seemed to be nearer, then got farther, and finally ceased altogether. We all heard them, including the ladies, and none of us went back to bed until everything was quiet." "Let's see," said the sheriff; "I didn't quite catch your names." "Mine's Jim Barlow. This is Gerald Blank. We're members of a camping party from Baltimore. We arrived in the mountains yesterday morning for a two weeks' stay." "Blank?" repeated the sheriff. "Blank? Any relation to Blank, the broker?" "He's my father," said Gerald. "That so? Then I'm right glad to meet you." The sheriff extended a horny hand, which Gerald shook. "I knew him years ago. Didn't realize he had a boy as old as you. Well, we must be getting on. Sorry you can't give us a clue to the boy's whereabouts." [Illustration: "I AM SHERIFF OF THIS COUNTY." "_Dorothy's Triumph._"] "It is too bad," said Gerald. "When we last heard the cries they came from about that direction," and he extended his finger down the mountainside. "Then they grew fainter and seemed to be moving off to the east. We'd like very much to help you, sheriff. If we'd any idea it was only a boy, and a scapegoat, at that, we could have caught and held him until your arrival." "Well, I could hardly expect that," returned the minion of the law, with a good-natured smile. "Come, Haley, let's be off. He can't have gone far between midnight and now, so we're apt to overhaul him at some of the farm houses up the valley. Good-by, boys--see you later!" The men tipped their hats to the ladies out of courtesy for their presence, and rode away. "Hope they don't see us later," said Jim, as he stood with Gerald gazing after their receding forms. "No; for he might catch us at an inopportune moment. If they ever found Len in our camp there'd be the very dickens to pay." "Couldn't do anything to us, Gerald, and I don't believe he'd have any right to take Len, unless there's some papers filed in the court of this county, appointing James Haley his guardian. Just merely because he's an orphan don't give a man a right to take him and hold him against his will--even if he is his uncle." "Boys, I really must congratulate you on your presence of mind," said Dorothy, when the riders had disappeared from view. "You handled the matter perfectly. Wait till I tell Ephraim to let Len come out from under cover," and she left them to enter the tent. Len was nearly roasted when he emerged from beneath the quilt, for the weather was excessively warm and his clothes were not as thin as they might have been. But he was smiling bravely through the perspiration, and rejoiced with the others that he had been so lucky as to escape being returned to captivity. "I don't understand how my uncle ever influenced the sheriff to help him hunt for me," he said. "I know Sheriff Dundon, and he's a mighty good man. He knows very well the way I was treated, so Uncle James must have pulled the wool over his eyes some way. Well, I reckon it don't matter much now. They're gone and I hope they'll never come back." "It won't do to take any chances, yet, Len," said Aunt Betty. "You'll have to spend most of your time in the tent, with someone constantly on watch outside. It will be pretty hard on you, but better than going back to the life you left." "I don't mind in the least, Mrs. Calvert--staying in the tent, I mean. I'd do anything to escape my uncle. He's certainly the meanest man on earth." Aunt Betty's plan was followed during the next few days, but neither Sheriff Dundon or James Haley put in a further appearance at the camp. Aunt Betty cautioned Len, however, to keep out of sight until the end of the trip, at which time he was to be piled into the big auto and taken with them back to Baltimore. The party had been in the mountains a week before Jim and Gerald decided to put into practice their oft-repeated resolve to go fishing. Dorothy and Molly begged to be taken along, and to this the boys reluctantly consented. The trout stream in the valley was the objective point of the pilgrimage. Here, in the spot where Molly had discovered the fish swimming about in plain view of those on shore, they would try their luck. Aurora, interested in a book, refused to be tempted by the other girls, and stated her intention of remaining in camp with Aunt Betty, Ephraim and Len. With a bundle of sandwiches and their tackle, the fishing party got away from camp in the early morning, planning to spend the better part of the day in enticing the denizens of the deep to nibble at their flies. Then the return to camp could be made in the cool of the evening between sundown and dark. By nine o'clock they were seated on the bank of the stream, poles in hand, and lines cast far out into the stream. At first the girls kept up an incessant chatter, in spite of the warning from Jim and Gerald that if they did not stop they would scare the fish away. "Nonsense!" cried Molly, laughing aloud at the warning. "Fish can't hear." At this Jim and Gerald exchanged glances of amused tolerance. "Told you we should have left 'em at home," said the latter. "I knew it," Jim replied. "It was only through the kindness of my heart that I agreed to let them come." This statement only served to amuse Dorothy and Molly, and their laughter rang out over the water so loudly, that Jim and Gerald, with sighs of resignation, began winding in their lines with the evident intention of departing. At first this increased the merriment of the girls. But when they saw the boys taking their poles apart, and stowing the sections away in their fishing bags, they realized that they had really incurred the displeasure of their young friends by what they had intended as a joke. "Come," said Dorothy, soberly. "You boys are not going home?" "Oh, aren't we?" demanded Gerald. "Yes; we're going home," Jim said, rather curtly. "Where did you think we were going--to the village?" "Oh, come! You must have known Molly and I were only joking?" "Of course, they knew it," Molly chimed in, in a careless tone. "There's such a thing as carrying a joke too far," said Gerald. "No use to argue with a couple of girls, Gerald," said Jim. "Let's take 'em home and come back to-morrow." "Suits me," responded his chum. "I hate to think we've had this long jaunt for nothing, but there's an old saying to the effect that we must learn by experience." Their poles "knocked down," and stowed away in their canvas cases, the boys picked up their coats and prepared to move. "Oh, I say, this is a shame!" cried Dorothy. "I had counted on having such a good time." "So had I," echoed Molly--"such a good time!" "So had we," said the boys in unison. "But we didn't," Jim added. "No; we didn't," echoed Gerald. "Well, it wasn't our fault," said Dorothy. "We thought you could take a joke," said Molly. "We can," Gerald replied. "It's a good joke. We're willing to admit it's on us. You asked to come; we consented. That was our fault, not yours." "Yes," Jim put in, "we thought you knew at least the rudiments of fishing." Molly shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, dear, what a fuss over nothing," she groaned. "And to think I started it all by remarking that fish have no ears. And I'll stand by my statement. I'm sure I am right." "No use to argue with a girl," said Jim. "Not a bit," Gerald replied. "Let's get 'em back to camp." "I refuse to go!" The fire fairly flashed from Dorothy's eyes. "I came down here to fish, and fish I shall until I get ready to stop, and you're a bigger 'it' than I think you are, Molly Breckenridge, if you let two unruly boys bluff you into doing as they wish." "Then we'll have to leave you here," said Jim, in the most matter of fact tone he could muster. Gerald nodded assent. Then both boys assumed an independent air, and acted as if they were going to leave--as much as to say that settled the matter. "Well, let's be going," said Gerald, casting a sly glance toward Dorothy, and noticing that she made no move to wind in her line. He picked up his basket and threw an inquiring glance at Jim. "Of course, if the girls agree to keep still, it won't be necessary for us to go," said Jim. "Too bad we didn't think of that before we wound in our lines," Gerald lamented. "Well, it's never too late to let them out again," Dorothy said, coolly. "Will you promise to be quiet, Dorothy?" "I promise nothing, Jim Barlow!" "Oh, come now; don't act contrary!" "It's not me who's contrary, and you know it very well." "You said you were going back to camp. Why don't you go?" Molly flung at them, tauntingly. "Well, by cracky, we should; it would serve you right," Gerald responded, slightly impatient. "You girls have no right to treat us this way. We brought you with us to give you a good time, and it seems that you might respect our wishes a little. No one can catch fish with a regular gab-fest going on on the bank." "Go along and don't bother us," admonished Dorothy. At that instant her floater began to bob fiercely up and down. There was a strong tug on her line, and the reel began to revolve at a high rate of speed, as Mr. Fish, evidently aware that in snapping what appeared to be a nice, fat fly, he had gotten decidedly the worst of it, made a desperate effort to get away. "Hold him!" cried Molly, rising on the bank and waving her arms excitedly. "Oh, yes, hold him," said the boys, exchanging glances of amusement. "Hold him?" Dorothy gritted her teeth. "You just know I'll hold him! We'll show these young gentlemen that fish _can_ be caught when there is noise on the bank. Oh, we'll show them!" The reel was revolving more slowly now, and before the end of the line was reached, had ceased altogether. Then the girl, a light of triumph in her eyes, began to wind in her prize. It was a slow task and a hard one, for when the denizen of the river found he had again encountered resistance, he renewed his struggle for freedom. Once he nearly jerked the girl off the bank into the water, greatly to the delight of Jim and Gerald, who had settled in a comfortable nook under the trees with the avowed intention of being "in at the finish." That Dorothy would fail to land the fish they were quite sure, and to be on hand with a hearty laugh when her disappointment came, would in a measure atone for the trouble of bringing the girls on the trip. Little by little the struggling fish was brought nearer, until, with a quick jerk of her pole, the girl lifted him clean of the water and swung him over her head to the shore. So quickly did it happen that Jim was unable to get out of the way, and the fish, which was a three-pound trout, struck him squarely in the face, bowling him over in the grass, and causing him to drop the fishing tackle he was holding in his hands, long enough to brush the water from his eyes. Now it was the girls' turn to laugh, and they did not neglect the opportunity. "Thought I couldn't catch a fish, didn't you, Jim Barlow?" cried Dorothy. "Well, I trust you now see the error of your judgment. I caught him, and you caught him, too, only you caught him where I didn't--across the face." At this both girls burst out laughing again, and Gerald, no longer able to restrain himself, convulsed at the sight of Jim as he went tumbling backward with his eyes and nose full of water, was forced to join them. They laughed so loudly that Jim first smiled, then burst into a guffaw himself. He had been inclined to be angry at the humiliation imposed upon him by the fish, but now the ludicrous side of the affair appealed to him. He admitted that Dorothy had all the best of the argument and wound up by declaring that he intended trying his luck at the fish again. Dorothy, in the meantime, had walked over and picked up her squirming catch, which she detached from the hook and dropped in the basket she had brought with her for that purpose. "Here goes again!" she cried, and fastening a new fly on her line, she cast it far out into the stream. "Better hurry, you people, or I'll have the record for the day." Gerald and Jim, thus admonished, began undoing their fishing tackle, and soon the quartet were fishing as if their lives depended on what they caught that afternoon. And the strangest part about it was that nobody--not even the girls--said a word! Silence reigned supreme. So, although Dorothy had triumphed in showing the boys the folly of keeping absolutely silent, the boys had also won their point in getting the girls so interested that neither cared to talk. The fish began to bite with unusual frequency, and soon each member of the party had a fine string in the basket. Lunch was forgotten, so eager was each to beat the other's record, and so nearly equal were the numbers of fish caught by each, they were afraid to stop to count them for fear they would be losing valuable time. But finally, when the declining sun told them that the afternoon would soon be gone, with the pangs of hunger gnawing at their stomachs, a general agreement caused all to wind in their lines. The fish were counted and it was seen that Dorothy had made the best record with seventeen trout of various sizes. Gerald came a close second, having sixteen, while Molly and Jim followed in the order named with fourteen and twelve respectively. Lunch was eaten--or rather devoured, for they were ravenously hungry--in the shade of the big trees on the bank before preparations were made for the return to camp. "Wish those fish were up the mountain," sighed Jim. "Oh, it will be easy to carry them," said Molly. "Yes; easy for you, because Gerald and I will have to carry all you've caught as well as our own." "How clever of you to guess that," Dorothy said, laughing. "You're a bright boy, Jim." "Yes; a little too bright sometimes," he returned. "Next time I come fishing I hope I shall be bright enough not to invite you girls." "You did not invite us; we invited ourselves," said Molly with some spirit. "And they should be well satisfied," said Dorothy. "If it had not been for us they would have gone back to camp before the fish commenced to bite, and then we would have had none." "Pooh, pooh!" said Jim. "And again pooh, pooh!" said Gerald. Then, without further ado, the boys picked up their loads and the climb back to the camp was begun. They reached their destination tired from the exertion of the climb and generally weary from the day's strenuous outing, but soon the odor of fried fish made them glad they had taken the trip and that the results had been so satisfying. CHAPTER VIII THE JOURNEY HOME The next few days passed quickly to the campers, who were loath for the time to approach when they would have to "pull up stakes" for the return to Baltimore. Among the excursions following the fishing trip, was another of a similar nature, participated in alone by Jim and Gerald. But as the results were considerably less than on the day the girls had accompanied them, there was a hearty laugh at the boys' expense when they returned to camp. This they accepted good-naturedly, however. At one time or another the whole face of the mountain was explored, many curious things being discovered. Among them was a cave of large extent, where stalactites and stalagmites abounded in great profusion. Many were broken off to be taken back home as mementoes of the trip. Nothing further had been heard from James Haley and Sheriff Dundon, and during the last few days in camp Len was allowed to show himself, though he did not venture far from the tents, fearing to take a risk that might be the means of placing him again in captivity. By the time the day for departure came, the lad had won his way into the hearts of everyone. Aunt Betty and Dorothy were so taken with his winning manners and extreme good nature that they already regarded him as a protégé, and were planning how he was to be trained for the future, and given a thorough business education. When the plan was mentioned to Len he fell into the spirit of it with an alacrity that astonished them. His resolve to make something of himself was a commendable one and showed the proper appreciation for their efforts. On the morning which marked the end of their two weeks' stay, the boys began to gather up the camping paraphernalia which was packed in the rear chest and under the seats of the automobile. After a short conference between the campers, it was decided that to best enjoy their last day, the afternoon should be spent running about over the mountains in the machine. The journey home would then be made by moonlight, Gerald having won Aunt Betty's consent to "speed her up." He promised that they should all be home and in bed shortly after midnight. "Oh, dear, dear!" moaned Aunt Betty. "I see I'm in for it. Why did I ever let you persuade me to become a party to this speed mania, Gerald Blank?" "Don't ask me why, Mrs. Calvert," Gerald responded, laughing; "I only know that you did. I have your promise, remember! And," he added, dramatically, "a Calvert never goes back on a promise." "Oh, yes; you have my promise, but I'm sorry I gave it." "She'll be glad she promised, when she sees how easy the big Ajax covers ground," said Jim, winking at his chum. "I think the ride back to Baltimore by moonlight will be ideal," said Molly, rapturously. "Isn't it strange to think that here we are over sixty miles from home, not planning to start until the moon is up, yet will be home and in bed by midnight?" said Aurora. "Pshaw! That's nothing," cried Gerald. "It's mere play for this big Ajax. Why, I could easily do the sixty miles in a little over an hour if Aunt Betty--" "Mercy!" screamed Aunt Betty. "In a little over an hour? Gerald, if you don't stop that silly talk, I shall sit myself down under one of these trees and refuse to budge an inch." "Oh, you don't know how nice it is to ride fast, Aunt Betty," said Dorothy; "to feel the wind fairly blowing the hair off your head; the landscape flashing past so rapidly one can scarcely see it, and to know that--" "Stop, Dorothy Calvert! You shall not tempt me. I'm too old to acquire such habits, and if Gerald lets his car get beyond a fair rate of speed during our journey home, I shall leap out into the ditch. Then just think how badly you all will feel." But the boys only grinned at this, and resumed their work of taking down the tents. Soon everything was packed in the machine but enough food for their mid-day lunch, which was eaten under the shade of the trees. When the time to leave came at last, no one seemed happier or more eager than Len Haley. An instinctive fear seemed to possess the lad that his uncle would be prowling about the mountains and apprehend him when he least expected it; hence, to go flying away to Baltimore in a big automobile was to him the acme of delight. The early afternoon was spent at the camp, but about four o'clock, when the sun was on the decline, and the shadows in the valley had commenced to lengthen, Gerald, at the wheel of the big Ajax, sent the machine slowly across the plateau toward the eastern mountain. As the car moved along the girls burst into a song, and a moment later Jim and Gerald joined in. For a few moments they fairly made the welkin ring. Then as the machine was plunging down a steep descent the concert came to an abrupt end, and the inmates clutched the rails to keep from pitching forward. Up around the side of the east mountain the auto then climbed slowly, seeming to exert itself very little for the performance of so difficult a task. Shortly after sundown, they went spinning down into the valley to the hotel where they had stopped for the night on their trip to the mountains two weeks before. The landlord had apparently forgotten that this was the party who had feasted on the good things he had set before them, greatly to his discomfiture; for now he put himself out to serve them a fine supper. And everyone was hungry! Cold meats, bread, fresh country butter, and milk, with iced tea for those who desired it, and strawberry jelly and chocolate cake for dessert, made a bill of fare tempting enough to suit the most fastidious member of the party. With the supply of gasoline replenished, both in the regular and reserve tanks, with the moon peeping over the undulating land to the eastward, shedding its brilliant rays over farm and road, the party left the village hotel for the run back to Baltimore. Aunt Betty sat sternly in the big rear seat, with Dorothy on one side and Aurora on the other, her bonnet held firmly in place by a large veil, her lips tightly compressed in prospect of the fast ride Gerald had promised was to come. She had little to say. In her heart was a nameless dread--had been, in fact, since Gerald won her consent to allow him to run at a faster pace on the return trip. The highways in this part of Maryland were all that could be desired, and Gerald was not long in fulfilling part of his promise. Knowing that something over half way to their destination there was for several miles a bad stretch of road, he wished to even matters by making good time until the rough spots were reached. It was nearly nine o'clock now, and as the auto gathered speed, Aunt Betty gave a little gasp, then looked at Dorothy and bravely smiled. Gradually Gerald let the car out until she was doing fully forty miles an hour. This could be kept up only on the smooth level stretches which they encountered every now and then. In climbing the hills, the car did not average over eight. The streams of light from the gas lamps made a wobbly path in the darkness when occasionally clouds blew across the sky, obscuring the moon. The car made very little noise. In fact, the low hum of the engine, and swish of the tires along the smooth roadway, were all that met their ears as they went flying up hill and down dale, past farmhouses and over bridges. The great highway seemed deserted save for an occasional farm wagon, which turned quickly to one side when its occupant saw their rapidly approaching lamps. Gerald was very considerate of horses, knowing that many animals were unused to automobiles, hence were liable to become frightened at the slightest provocation. Through the villages the speed was slackened to not more than ten miles an hour. Very few of the places had electric lights, hence Gerald was forced to depend entirely upon the moon and his lamps for guidance through crooked streets. At times they passed little groups of people, come out from nearby houses to watch them go by; at others they were chased for long distances by yelping dogs, who snapped at the wheels and in other ways tried to show their supreme contempt for a vehicle driven without horses. Aunt Betty soon grew used to the bursts of speed, and before they were half way to Baltimore she was breathing freely once more, conscious of the fact that in Gerald the big auto had a good pilot, and convinced that did the occasion demand it, the car could be brought to a standstill within its own length. "I believe I like it when you 'speed her up,' as you say," she finally admitted, greatly to Gerald's delight. "I hope I shan't develop a mania for speeding, however, as that would necessitate my buying a car--something which I don't feel able to do just at present." "I shouldn't allow you to buy one," said Dorothy, a note of authority in her voice that caused a laugh from the others. "Humph! Talks like she rules the ranch," said Jim. "Well, maybe I do, Mr. Smarty," replied the girl. "One thing I am quite sure of--_you_ don't!" "Come, children; neither of you rule the ranch," Aunt Betty intervened. "I rule it and expect to do so for an indefinite period." "See!" Jim cried, tauntingly. "Told you so! Told you so!" Dorothy aimed a playful blow at him, but he dodged and caught her arm in a vise-like grip, refusing to let go until she had promised to be a good girl. At ten-fifteen they passed through a village which Gerald said was the half-way mark between Baltimore and the South Mountains. "We have rather a bad stretch of road ahead, however," he told them, "so for the next half hour it will be slower going. But wait till we strike the graveled county road this side of Baltimore. Then we'll make up some of our lost time." But somehow this did not interest Aunt Betty. She was talking with the girls and apparently felt not the slightest tremor at the thought of going at a faster pace--a change that Dorothy noticed and commented on with no little delight. Just when Gerald was congratulating himself that the roughest part of the trip was over, the front tire on the left exploded with a bang that brought a scream from every feminine inmate of the car. Molly, who was nearest the noise, promptly threw her arms around Gerald's neck, and clung there as if her very life depended on it. It was with considerable difficulty that the boy retained the presence of mind to stop the car. But he did so immediately, then gave himself up to the task of releasing Molly's arms. When he had succeeded, he kissed her on the lips, greatly to her amazement and chagrin, for the others, recovered from their momentary scare, laughed heartily. "Gerald Blank!" she cried. "I'll never, never forgive you for that!" "Well, seeing you came so near capsizing us by your affectionate embrace of the chauffeur, the latter individual is surely entitled to some reward for his valued services--particularly as he will now have to detain the party some ten or fifteen minutes while he does a little real hard labor." He jumped quickly out of the machine and going around to the left front wheel, examined the exploded tire. It was perfectly flat. "Yes;" he repeated, "this means a little work." "That was hard luck, Gerald," said Dorothy, "particularly when you were trying to make a record run." "Yes; it's the first trouble we've had with the machine since starting on our trip. But this is really a simple matter, Dorothy." "Oh, I'm so glad of that." "I shall still have the satisfaction of putting you into Bellvieu in time to be in bed by twelve--and we may even shade that time a little. Come, Jim! Get that jack out of the tool chest, and help me hoist this wheel off the ground. You'd better bring the pump, also, and we'll see how long it will take you and Ephy to inflate a tire of this size." Jim and Ephraim both sprang to Gerald's aid. Soon the jack was under the wheel, where it required but a moment to raise the machine until the wheel was clear of the ground. Then Gerald removed the punctured tire, pulled out the inner tube, and proceeded to put the new one in its place. With the tire back on the rim again, he attached the end of the pump to the air tube with astonishing swiftness, and Jim began at once to force the ozone into the rubber. Tiring after a few moments, he gave way to Ephraim, while Gerald, his hand on the tire, waited until it was sufficiently hard to carry the weight of the machine. Then he gave the signal to stop pumping. Another moment sufficed to lower the wheel onto the ground, and to put the tools back in the chest. Then Gerald and his helpers crawled into the machine and the big car started off as if nothing had happened. The whole affair had not taken over ten minutes. "I had no idea punctures were so easily remedied," said Aunt Betty. "Somehow, I have always dreaded the thought of being in an automobile away from the city when a tire blew up. But, aside from the noise, there seem to be no disagreeable features." "Would be if you didn't happen to have an extra inner tube along," said Jim. Gerald nodded. "You're right. The idea is always to have one." "But what would you do if you hadn't?" asked Dorothy. "It would be necessary to find the hole in the punctured tube and stop it up with cement." "And then you would have to wait hours for it to dry, I suppose?" "No; only a few minutes. There is a preparation something like putty which you force into the puncture, and which dries in a very few minutes. Of course, a tire fixed in this way would never be considered as satisfactory as a new inner tube, yet they have been known to go many miles without the slightest trouble. In fact, you are more apt to get a new puncture, than to have the patch give out." Time passed so quickly as the big machine shot along the level highway at a rapid pace that no one realized their whereabouts until Aunt Betty cried suddenly: "Oh, look over there! Those must be the Northern Lights." Her hand was extended toward a brilliant glare which lit up the sky as the moon went behind a heavy cloud. "The Northern Lights, and in the east!" cried Dorothy. "Oh, Aunt Betty!" "As I live that _is_ the east! Why, I'm all turned around. Then what are those lights, my dear?" "Baltimore, of course, you dear auntie." "So soon? Why, it seems as if we have been out barely two hours." "And we have been out but a very little more," said Jim, looking at his watch. "It is only eleven o'clock and it was a few minutes to nine when we left the hotel. Another half hour will put us to the gates of Bellvieu, eh, Gerald?" "Surely," was the response, delivered in an "I-told-you-so" tone. Gradually they began to encounter more vehicles, the majority of which seemed to be traveling toward the city. "Strange those wagons are all going that way," said Aurora. "Nothing so strange about it," said Jim. "Most of them are lumber wagons filled with country produce, such as vegetables, eggs and fruit. They leave the farms early in the night so as to be on hand at the Baltimore market when it opens for business in the morning." On they flew at a high speed, the lights ahead becoming brighter and brighter. Soon an electric light burst before their vision off to the right, then another, and another, until they realized that they were, indeed, in the outskirts of Baltimore. Gerald ran the car more slowly now, for city ordinances are very strict, imposing a low limit on the speed of autos when within the confines of a municipality. Gerald had never been fined for speeding since coming into possession of an auto, and he had made up his mind that he never would be. Through the shopping district they went, and into a brilliantly-lighted residence street, thence into smaller, narrower streets as Gerald turned the big Ajax toward the shore of the bay. Then old Bellvieu, lying dark and silent in the moonlight, a single light twinkling from the servants' quarters in the rear, burst upon their view. The car ran quickly along the hedge and stopped before the gate. Gerald looked at his watch. "It is just eleven-thirty," he said. "I have the honor to report that I have beaten the time I suggested by several minutes--enough to give you time to unload your things and get to bed before the clock strikes twelve." Jim and Ephraim grabbed the baskets out of the big chest in the rear, while Aunt Betty and the girls seized their other belongings. Then, bidding Gerald and Aurora good night, with many thanks for the nice time they had had in the new car, they went up the pathway toward the house. Chloe, Dinah and Metty had heard their voices, and with shouts of delight had begun to light up the mansion. By the time the party reached the gallery the big house looked as inviting as one could wish. How soft and fine the beds seemed that night to each one of the tired camping party, for no matter how enjoyable a time they had had, they were forced to admit that there was no place like home. CHAPTER IX THE FIRST LESSON The next week was a pleasant one at Bellvieu. Molly Breckenridge secured the consent of her father to remain for that long, and the girls explored every nook and corner of the old mansion and its grounds. Even the big, old-fashioned barn came in for its share of their attention. Horseback riding is one of the chief attractions at Bellvieu. Both girls were good riders, and very fond of horses. Jim was not so anxious, but usually accompanied them when they ventured away from home. Long rides into the country early in the morning, or in the cool of the evening, were enjoyed to the utmost. Gerald came over frequently and the big automobile served to give them many pleasant hours. The first lesson with Herr Deichenberg had been postponed until after Molly's departure, though that young lady was not aware of it. The Herr refused to have the attention of his pupils distracted by visitors, so, while impatient to begin his labors, he consented to a postponement until Bellvieu should be clear of company and affairs running along in their natural groove. The day for Molly's departure finally rolled around, and at the station to see her off, besides Dorothy and Jim, were Gerald and Aurora. Molly waved a last farewell from the car window as the train moved out of the station. In Dorothy's ears still rang her promise: "If papa consents, I will spend Christmas with you at old Bellvieu." To which Dorothy had replied: "Of course, he'll consent, for you're to invite him, too." This pleased Molly greatly and she had promised to write her chum what the judge's decision was. The first violin lesson was set for the morning after Molly's departure, Herr Deichenberg having kindly consented to come to Bellvieu, greatly to the delight of both Dorothy and Aunt Betty. Dorothy was eager to display her ability, and, feeling every confidence in herself, was not the least bit flustered when she met Herr Deichenberg at the door and ushered him into the big drawing-room. "It seems real good to see you again, Miss Dorothy," the old professor said. "I have been t'inking about you a great deal vhile you have been avay, und I am really anxious to have you back--really und truly anxious." "It was good of you to come to Bellvieu, Herr. I feel that I should have gone to your studio." "Ah! Don't mention dat. I--" "But I am much younger than you. I can afford to exercise myself a little if it will save you trouble." "You are younger, yes. Yet, I am not as old in body as in looks. I valk pretty straight, yet, eh, Miss Dorothy?" and laughing, he chucked her playfully under the chin. "You walk with military precision, Herr, except on a few occasions when you forget yourself. Then I have noticed a slight stoop to the shoulders," she replied. "Ah, vhen I forget myself, yes--und I fear dat is very often, eh?" "No, no; I think you do remarkably well." "Do you, really? Dat iss very nice of you to say. If you vill pay me all de time such compliments, I t'ink you need not come to my studio at all. I vill be happy to come to your great home, here." He looked out through the window, where the magnificent sweep of lawn, with its flowers, trees and hedges, made a pretty picture. "It iss beautiful--beautiful!" While they were talking Aunt Betty, attired in a charming morning gown, well-becoming to one of her age, entered the room. Herr Deichenberg arose with a broad smile to greet her. "Ah, here iss de mistress of de house," he said to Dorothy, then turned to Aunt Betty, who had extended her hand with the words: "Welcome again to Bellvieu, Herr Deichenberg." "T'ank you, madame. It iss very kind of you. Really, if I sit here much longer, admiring de flowers und de trees, I shall forget dat I have come to give dis young lady a moosic lesson, und dat I shall have another pupil vaiting for me in de studio at eleven." "But it is well that you occasionally forget your labors, Herr." "Ah, yes, but--" "I know what you are going to say--that you have your living to make." "Madame, you have read the sordid t'oughts of an old man who is supposed to have made a great success." "And I'm sure you have made a great success. As for the money, Herr, is that any reason you should ruin your health?" "No, no, madame, but--" "Ah, Herr," she interrupted again, "you are becoming too thoroughly imbued with the American spirit, which thinks of nothing more than to catch the dollars as they go rolling past. Then, after they are corralled in a bank, or invested in property, you are not satisfied, but begin to covet more." "Madame, you have struck de key-note of it all, I fear. I plead guilty. But I also plead, in extenuation, dat I have a vife to whom I owe a great duty." "Ah, yes, a wife! True, true; but did you ever put straight to her the question whether she would prefer to have you slave for money or give her a little more of your time for pleasure?" "No; but I know vhat she vould say. You are right und I am wrong. But come, Miss Dorothy, de lesson! I have brought with me my own instrument. I vill get it at once." Stepping across the room he picked up his violin case and began to unfasten the clasps, while Dorothy watched him with fascinated gaze. "Oh, Herr," cried the girl, "you--you didn't bring your old Cremona?" "Surely. Vhat you t'ink, dat you are not good enough to be taught on a Cremona, eh?" "Oh, Herr, you know I didn't mean that!" "Of course not," he laughed. "You meant dat you vould like to see it, maybe?" "Yes, yes." "Vell, here it iss." For a moment Dorothy was awed as she gazed at the rather ordinary-looking violin. Could this be the great Cremona of which she had heard so much? This--this--why, this looked more like a ten-dollar fiddle picked up in a pawnshop! She knew, however, that the Herr would not deceive her, so she took the instrument tenderly in her hands while the old German watched her intently. When he saw the look of reverence that crossed her face, he seemed pleased. "You vould like to try it, yes, Miss Dorothy?" "Oh, Herr, if I only may!" "Surely, surely. Iss it stingy I am, do you t'ink? Surely you may try it, my leetle girl. Here--use my own bow, too. It iss well resined, und in good shape for to make fine moosic. Now, let me hear you play." Not until she had drawn the bow across the strings and heard the deep, sweet tones of the old Cremona, did Dorothy realize that in her hands she held an instrument constructed by one of the finest of the old masters--an instrument that had come down, perfectly preserved through the ages, growing better with each passing year. As the girl played one of the simple pieces which lay uppermost on the piano-rack, the big living-room was filled to overflowing with matchless melody. So clear and pure were the tones that Dorothy could hardly believe her ears. Was it indeed she who made such delightful music, or was she dreaming? Herr Deichenberg's voice brought her back to her normal state of mind. "It iss beautiful--de melody. I did not believe you could do it, even on a Cremona." "It is not me, Herr, but this wonderful violin," the girl cried in admiration. "Oh, come, now, vhen ve simmer t'ings down to a fine point, de Cremona iss not so different from your own instrument, Miss Dorothy." "Oh, Herr, surely you are mistaken. Why, I seem to be dreaming when I am playing on the Cremona." "Und vhy iss dat? Because you have made up your mind dat dis iss absolutely de finest violin in de whole vorld, und have prepared yourself to hear somet'ing vhich iss not there. De tones are clear und full, but so are those of your own violin, on vhich you played for me vhen I vass here before." Dorothy shook her head in disbelief, unable to appreciate the full truth of his words. Herr Deichenberg smiled. "You von't believe me, eh? Very vell. Let us on with de lesson. I shall convince you at another time." "I'm afraid you will have a hard time ever convincing me of that," the girl replied. Dorothy's own violin was tuned, and on this, under the music master's direction, she ran scales for the better part of an hour--to limber her fingers, Herr Deichenberg said. "But they are already limber, Herr," she returned, in a tone of mild protest. "Vait, vait," he good-naturedly said. "Vait just a few veeks und den you vill see vhat you shall see. I vill have you doing vhat you Americans call 'stunts' on dat violin. Really, it vill surprise you! Your fingers are stiff. See; I vill show you. Now, try dis exercise--here!" He opened one of her music books and pushed the music before her. "Right there, now. One--two--t'ree! One--two--t'ree!--" Dorothy swung off into the exercise with apparent ease, but soon reached a difficult scale in the third position. Somehow her fingers would not go where she intended them. She tried it once--twice--then stopped, flushing. "You see?" said the Herr professor. "If I vant to be mean, I vould say, 'I told you so.'" "Oh, Herr, I beg your pardon! I will never dispute your word again--never--never! My fingers _are_ stiff. They are all right for ordinary music in the first and second positions, but the third I can hardly do at all, and I'm sure I have practiced and practiced it." "Surely you have practiced it, but never as you shall during de next few veeks. It iss only by constant application to a certain method dat great violin players are made. Dey are expected to accomplish de impossible. Dat may sound rather vague to you, but you vill some day understand vhat I mean." "I understand what you mean now, Herr. I find an exercise which it is impossible for me to play. But I keep everlastingly at it until I can play it. In that way I have achieved what _seemed_ to be the impossible." "Dat iss it--dat iss it! You catch my idea exactly. Do you t'ink you vill be able to accomplish many of those impossible t'ings?" "I shall perform every task you set for me, no matter how long or how hard I have to try." "Ah, now, dat iss de proper spirit. If all young ladies vere like you vhat a beautiful time de moosic teachers vould have." "They would, Herr?" "Oh, yes; dey vould be so overjoyed dat dey vould be avay on a vacation most of de time." "I suppose you have all sorts of pupils, Herr?" said Aunt Betty, who had been an interested listener to the conversation between the girl and the professor. "Yes; mostly young girls, madame, und to say dat dey are a big trouble iss but expressing it mildly. In fact, dey are de greatest of my troubles. Dey pay me vell, yes, but vhat iss pay vhen you must labor with dem hour after hour to get an idea t'rough their heads? Vy, for example I vill show you. A lady pupil vill valk into my studio, t'row off her t'ings und prepare for a lesson. Vhen I say now you do dis or dat, she vill reply, 'Oh, Herr, you should not ask of me de impossible!' Und I try to explain dat it iss only by practice dat she vill ever make a great musician. Den perhaps she vill reply: 'Vell, if I had known it vass such hard vork maybe I vould not have tried to play,' und den she heaves such a sigh dat for a moment I really feel ashamed of myself for making her vork so hard. Oh, madame, it iss awful! Sometimes I almost go crazy in my head." He turned again to Dorothy. "But, come, young lady, back to de lesson, und ve vill soon be t'rough." Dorothy nodded her willingness, which caused the Herr professor to smile and nod delightedly at Aunt Betty. "Dat iss de proper spirit," he kept repeating, half aloud. Scale after scale the girl ran over, repeating dozens of times the same notes, until Herr Deichenberg would nod his head that she had played it to his satisfaction. Then on to another and the same performance over again. Her work won from the Herr the heartiest of commendation, and when he left he told both Dorothy and Aunt Betty that he would look forward to the next lesson with a great deal of pleasure. Thereafter, twice each week, the Herr came to Bellvieu. He seemed to dearly love the old place, for during her first four weeks of lessons Dorothy was unable to win from him his consent to take her to his home. Finally, he agreed that the next lesson should be in the studio, but only after considerable pleading on her part. "I am doing it to please you," he told her, "for if I have my vay, I vould much rather come to dis beautiful place." Dorothy could hardly wait for the time of the visit to come. The Herr had asked Aunt Betty to accompany her great-niece, to meet Frau Deichenberg, and on the morning in question they set out together in the barouche. Metty finally drew up on a quiet street before the quaintest-looking little house Dorothy had ever seen. It was not a bungalow, yet about it were certain lines which suggested that type of structure. It was all in one story, with great French windows on two sides, and with trailing vines climbing the porch posts onto the roof in thoroughly wild abandon. Herr Deichenberg came out to meet them and lead them into the living-room of the house, where Dorothy and Aunt Betty met for the first time Frau Deichenberg, who had been out on the occasion of Aunt Betty's first visit. The Frau proved to be a kindly German lady who spoke English with even more accent than her distinguished husband. The welcome to the studio was complete in every way, and as Dorothy went from room to room examining the rare curios and works of art, which the Herr and his wife had gathered from various parts of the world, she felt that her visit had not been in vain. In the large, well-lighted music room, where the Herr received his pupils, Dorothy found the things of greatest interest. Half a dozen violins were scattered about on the shelves, or lying on the old-fashioned piano, while clocks of every conceivable size and shape, bronze statues from the Far East, and queerly woven baskets from the Pampas, mingled with the Mexican pottery and valuable geological specimens from her own United States. Finally, when the girl's curiosity had been thoroughly satisfied, Aunt Betty and Frau Deichenberg were shown into another room and the music master and his pupil began their lesson. It was not until the lesson was over that the Herr turned to his pupil with a merry twinkle in his eyes and observed: "You are so fond of moosic, perhaps you do not know dat every year I give a concert in de theater before de opening of de regular season." "Oh, yes, I have often heard of your concert," the girl replied. "I have longed to go to them, but something has always kept me from it." "Vell, you are going to my next one." "I am? Oh, how good of you, Herr!" "Yes, it iss very good of me, for there you shall meet one of my most promising pupils." "Oh, tell me who it is," she replied, unable to restrain her curiosity. "Vell, it iss a secret dat has not yet been vhispered to a soul. But I don't mind telling you. De name of de young lady iss Miss Dorothy Calvert." "Why, Herr Deichenberg, you don't mean that--?" Dorothy stopped short. A lump came into her throat and she was unable to continue. "Dat iss just vhat I mean," he smiled, reading her thoughts. "You are to play at de concert, vhere you are expected to do both yourself und your moosic teacher proud." "Oh, Herr, I hadn't imagined such an honor would be conferred upon me this year. Why, surely there are other pupils who have more talent and can make a better showing for you than I?" "My dear young lady, it iss I who shall be de best judge of dat." "Oh, I didn't mean--" "Never before have I had a young lady refuse an invitation to play at my concert." "Why, Herr, I haven't refused. You don't understand me. I--I--" "Yes, yes. I understand you perfectly--I have surprised you and you have not yet found time to catch your breath. Iss dat not so?" "Yes, but--" "Oh, no 'buts.' I know vhat you vould say. But it is not necessary. I have made up my mind, und once I do dat, I never change." "I know, Herr, but--" "Didn't I say no 'buts'? You shall show de people of Baltimore vhat a really fine violinist dey have in their midst." "Well, if you insist, of course I shall play. And are you to play my accompaniments?" "I, my dear young lady? No, no; I shall have my hands full vidout attempting dat. But you shall have a full orchestra at your beck und call to t'under at you vun minute und to help you lull de audience to sleep de next." "Herr, you overwhelm me!" "Such vass not my intention. I am merely telling you vhat I know to be de truth. You are a remarkable girl und nothing I can say vill turn your head. I have tried it und I know. Dat iss vhy I do not hesitate to say it." When Dorothy Calvert left Herr Deichenberg's studio that morning she was the happiest girl in Baltimore. CHAPTER X HERR DEICHENBERG'S CONCERT Herr Deichenberg's concert was but a month away, and Dorothy, despite the hotness of the weather, practiced as she never had before. After her visit to the studio Herr Deichenberg resumed his comings to Bellvieu. He seemed never to tire descanting on the beauties of the old estate, and in this way won a warm place in the hearts of both Dorothy and Aunt Betty--aside from his many other fine qualities. Aunt Betty had been delighted at the thought of Dorothy's appearing at the Herr's concert. "His affairs are the finest of their kind given in the city," she told the girl, "and it is an honor you must not fail to appreciate. The Herr would not have invited you to appear had he not been sure of your ability to uphold his standards." The week before the concert Herr Deichenberg came out one morning in a particularly good humor--though, to tell the truth, he seemed always bubbling over with agreeable qualities. "It iss all arranged," he told Dorothy--"for de concert, I mean. De theater has been put in readiness, und you should see de decorations. Ah! Vines trailing t'rough de boxes, und de stage just loaded down with palms. Und yet I am not t'rough, I have been offered de loan of some of de finest plants in de city. I tell you, Miss Dorothy, it iss very nice to have friends." "It is indeed," the girl responded. "A little inspiration from them can go a long way toward helping us accomplish our tasks." The lesson went unusually well that morning. Dorothy was practicing certain pieces now, which she was to render at the concert, the selections having been made from among the classics by the Herr professor. There were two pieces, and a third--a medley of old Southern airs--was to be held in readiness, though the music master warned his pupil not to be discouraged if she did not receive a second encore. The Herr was even more particular than was his wont--if such a thing were possible. The missing of the fraction of a beat--the slightest error in execution or technique--he would correct at once, making her play over a certain bar time and again, until her playing was to his entire satisfaction. Then he would encourage her with a nod of approval, and go on to the next. But Dorothy did not mind this; rather, she revelled in it. Her heart was in her prospective career as a violinist, and she was willing to undergo any discomfort if she could but attain her ambition. On the morning before the concert Herr Deichenberg made his last call at Bellvieu--before the event. By this time Dorothy had learned well her lessons, and the Herr required that she run over each piece but once. Her execution was perfect--not a note marred or slurred--and he expressed his satisfaction in glowing terms. "You vill now take a vell-deserved rest," he said. "Please do not touch a violin until you arrive at the theater to-morrow evening." "I can hardly wait for to-morrow evening to come, Herr," she replied. The eagerness in her voice caused the music master to smile. "Ah, but you must not be too anxious, young lady. Better it iss to get de concert off your mind for a vhile. Vhat iss de use of playing de whole affair over in your mind, until you are sick und tired of it? No, no; don't do it. Vait till you get de reality." "As well try to banish my dear Aunt Betty from my thoughts," was the answer of the smiling girl. "Ah, vell, vhen you are as old as I, those t'ings vill not vorry you." "Ah, but Herr, you are worried yourself--I can see it." "Vhat! Me vorried? Oh, my dear young lady, no; my composure is perfect--perfect." "You are worrying right now." "Over vhat, please?" "Well, first you are wondering whether the confidence reposed by you in one Miss Dorothy Calvert will be justified when she faces a great audience for the first time in her life. Now, 'fess up, aren't you, Herr Deichenberg?" "No, no; I have not de slightest doubt of dat." "Then you are worrying because you fear some of the other numbers on the programme will not come up to your expectations. Now, aren't you?" "No, no, Miss Dorothy. No; I do not vorry--of course, there iss dat young lady who is to render de piano selections from 'Faust'--er--yet, I have no cause to vorry. No, no, I--" Dorothy interrupted with a laugh. "Your troubled expression as you said that gave you away, Herr. But I suppose it is very bold and impudent of me to tease you about these matters." The Herr smiled. "Oh, you just tease me all you vant--I like it. But really, if I vass vorried, I vould tell you--surely I vould. Er--if dat young lady vill just remember vhat I haf told her, she--" Again the troubled expression flitted over Herr Deichenberg's countenance, and Dorothy, seeing that he was really worried though he would not admit it, decided not to tease him further. He soon took his departure, and the girl rushed away to tell Aunt Betty that the Herr was well satisfied with her work, then to talk incessantly for half an hour about the coming event. The concert was by far the largest affair that had ever loomed up on Miss Dorothy's horizon, and she naturally could not get it off her mind. The great opera house in which the concert was to be held was packed with people the next evening. Dorothy, on the stage, peeping through a little hole in the curtain, saw one of the most fashionable audiences old Baltimore had ever turned out--the largest, in fact, Herr Deichenberg had ever drawn to one of his affairs, though the drawing power of the old professor had always been something to talk about. Entering the stage entrance early in the evening, dressed in an elaborate white evening gown, made expressly for this occasion at one of the great dressmaking establishments, Dorothy had deposited her violin in her dressing-room and sallied forth to view the wonders of Fairyland--for such the stage, with its many illusions and mysteries, seemed to her. She took great care to keep out of the way of the stage hands, who rushed back and forth, dragging great pieces of scenery over the stage as if they were but bits of pasteboard. Drops were let down, set pieces put in place, until, right before the eyes of the girl, a picture, beautiful indeed, had appeared. Where there had been but an empty stage now stood a scene representing a magnificent garden, with statuary, fountains and beautiful shrubbery all in their proper places. True, a great portion of this was represented by the back drop, but Dorothy knew that from the front the scene would look very real. Great jagged edges of wood wings protruded on to the stage--three on either side--while benches and palms were scattered here and there to properly balance the picture. Then, as if to force into the scene an incongruity of some sort, a grand piano was pushed out of the darkness in the rear of the stage, to a place in the garden, where it stood, seemingly the one blot on the landscape. "A piano in a garden!" exclaimed Dorothy, and laughed softly to herself. "Who ever heard of such a thing? Yet, of course, the concert could not proceed without it." "Ah, my dear, here you are! You are fascinated with it all, yes?" questioned Herr Deichenberg, as he passed in a hurry. She nodded, smiling, and saw him rush hurriedly to the dressing-rooms below the stage to make sure all his pupils were present. As he went the house electrician, with each hand on portions of the big switchboard, threw on the border and bunch lights, making the great stage almost as light as day. Then, out in front, Dorothy heard the orchestra as it struck into the overture, and hastening away, she seated herself in her dressing-room to await her turn on the programme. Aunt Betty, she knew, sitting with Len and Jim in one of the front rows of the orchestra, would be eagerly awaiting her appearance. She resolved that not only her relative, but Herr Deichenberg, as well, should be proud of her achievements. She heard the first number--a piano solo--then the great roar of applause that swept over the assemblage. This was followed by an encore. Then another round of applause. The next number was a harp solo. This was followed by a piano duet, which, in turn, was succeeded by a vocal number. Following each the applause was almost deafening. Encores were allowed in each instance by the music master. Finally, toward the close of another piano duet, a call boy came to the door of Dorothy's dressing-room to say: "Herr Deichenberg says tell you your turn is next, and you will please come at once and wait in the wings." Most girls would have felt a flutter of excitement when told that one of the crucial moments of their lives was at hand. Not so Dorothy Calvert. Her hands were steady and her confidence unbounded. Holding her skirt slightly off the stage, that her new frock might present a spotless appearance, the girl, violin in hand, hurried to the wings. The encore of the piano duet was just concluding. Herr Deichenberg nodded and smiled at her. Then the players, two young girls, scarcely older than she, arose, and with graceful bows, tripped off the stage within a few feet of her, their faces flushed with pleasure as great rounds of applause again rolled over the big auditorium. Herr Deichenberg sent them out for another bow, after which the noise simmered down, and the music master turned his attention to the next number. The curtain was not lowered between numbers. There was merely a pause as the orchestra laid aside one set of music and turned to another. "Be ready now," he warned, turning to Dorothy. "You enter from vhere you are, valking to de center of de stage, down near de footlights. Smile, Miss Dorothy, und do not put your violin to your shoulder until de orchestra is half way t'rough de introduction." The girl inclined her head and smiled that she understood. Then, at a nod from the music master, the electrician flashed a signal to the orchestra. The leader raised his baton, then the instruments swept off into the overture of the piece Dorothy was to play. "Now," said the Herr, giving her a gentle push. The next instant Dorothy, for the first time in her life, found herself sweeping out on a great stage, with a sea of faces in front of her. She blinked once or twice as the footlights flashed in her eyes, then singling out Aunt Betty, Jim and Len--having previously located their seats--she smiled genially. In the center of the great stage, but a few feet back from the footlights, she paused as Herr Deichenberg had told her. Then, as the orchestra approached the end of the overture, she raised her violin to her chin. With a graceful sweep of the bow she began. There was a great hush over the auditorium, as the horns, bass viol and second violins left off playing, and the clear notes of Dorothy's instrument went floating into every corner of the building, accompanied by soft strains from the piano and first violins. The piece was one of the classics, recognized immediately by everyone, and there was an expectant move as the girl reached the more difficult parts. Her eyes closed, her body swaying slightly, Dorothy played as she never had before. She forgot the audience, Aunt Betty, everything, except that here was a great orchestra playing her accompaniment--surely enough encouragement for any girl to do her best. There came a pause in the music, and the girl lowered her violin, while the orchestra played on. There was a slight ripple of applause from several in the audience, who, apparently, thought the piece was at an end, but this died away as the girl again raised the instrument to her chin. The second part was even more difficult than the first, but Dorothy swept into it with no thought but to play it as it should be played. Even the eyes of the orchestra leader lit up with admiration, and when at last the piece was concluded with a great flourish, and Dorothy had bowed herself off into the wings, the applause that swept over the assemblage was louder than at any other time during the evening. Herr Deichenberg patted Dorothy reassuringly on the back as she stood in the wings, panting slightly from the exertion of her work, and well-pleased that so much of the ordeal was over. The applause continued without cessation--first, the sharp clapping of hands, which spread over the audience as if by magic, finally the stamping of feet; later shrill whistles from the gallery. "It means for you an encore," said the music master, smiling at Dorothy. Then he nodded to the electrician, who again flashed a signal to the orchestra leader, and the musicians struck off into the overture of Dorothy's second piece. Bowing rather timidly, but with much grace, the girl again advanced to the center of the stage, and gazed out for a moment over the vast ocean of faces which stared up at her. Then as the orchestra finished the introduction, she again raised her violin to her chin. The second piece was a sad, plaintive one, and as Dorothy drew her bow full length across the strings, the instrument sent forth loud wails, which, to anyone with a keen musical ear, denoted mortal anguish. This was followed by shorter, quicker parts, which finally resolved themselves into the coming of a storm. On her G string the girl brought forth all the terrors of the elements, running the whole gamut from incessant rumbling to the crashing of the thunder, while the orchestra supplied effective and necessary accompaniments. It was a beautiful piece of music, well played, and when Dorothy had finished and again bowed herself off the stage, the storm of applause broke forth again. Under Herr Deichenberg's direction she took three bows in succession, only to find the applause, if anything, more pronounced. She looked at the music master for her cue. He smilingly said: "Vell, dey seem to like it. You may play another." Again he signaled the orchestra, and once more Dorothy Calvert went tripping out on the stage, gratitude surging in her heart toward that great audience which had been so kind as to express approval of her work. This time it was a medley of old Southern airs she played. The audience sat spellbound while the strains of "Old Black Joe," and "Old Folks at Home" were heard throughout the auditorium, and when Dorothy swung into the quick measures of her beloved "Dixie," such a roar shook the building as Aunt Betty had never heard before. Again Dorothy bowed herself off into the first entrance. Again and again she was sent forth to bow her acknowledgments--to bow again and again until she was forced to throw up her hands in token of the fact that she had exhausted her repertoire. The applause extended well into the beginning of the next number, and the young lady who was to perform on the piano after Dorothy, refused to go on the stage until the young violinist had taken another bow. Then followed the appearance of Herr Deichenberg, whose reception was easily the greatest of the evening. Dorothy did not wait to hear her music master play, but hurried off to her dressing-room with her violin, her heart singing a song of gladness. "Thus it is," she thought, "that success takes hold of our sensibilities, and in the same way does failure serve to discourage one, and put enthusiasm at a low ebb." In her dressing-room she sat and heard the thunders of applause that followed the Herr's playing. Then, after a short wait, when the audience was quiet, the Herr appeared suddenly at the door of her dressing-room. With him was a smartly-dressed stranger who bowed and extended his hand in a cordial way as the old German said: "Miss Calvert, allow me to introduce Mr. Ludlow, de theatrical manager from New York. He happened to be in de theater during your performance, and he hastened back to talk over with you a few matters of importance. I vill leave him with you." The Herr disappeared, and after inviting Mr. Ludlow to have a seat, Dorothy reseated herself and turned expectantly toward him. "I know you are wondering what I have to say to you, Miss Calvert, so I will come at once to the point. Being in the theatrical business, I am naturally on the lookout for talent along various lines. I have been vividly impressed with your playing to-night and I felt that I should not care to let the opportunity go by to inquire into your future plans." This was put partly in the form of a question and the girl responded: "Do you mean, Mr. Ludlow, that you would like to offer me an engagement?" "That I shall, perhaps, be able to determine when I learn your plans." "Well, I have none. My lessons are not over with Herr Deichenberg. I shall be under his instruction until next spring, at least." "And after that?" "Oh, I cannot say. Before talking over arrangements with you, I should like to discuss the matter with my aunt, Mrs. Calvert." "That will be agreeable to me, I am sure." "But she is out in front. I shall be unable to see her until the concert is over." "To-morrow will do, Miss Calvert. I merely wish to-night to make sure you do not sign a contract with another manager without giving me a chance." "Oh, I can safely promise that." "Then I shall be content. Where can I see you to-morrow?" "We shall be very glad to have you call at Bellvieu." "Bellvieu, Miss Calvert?" "Yes; our home in the suburbs. I had forgotten you were not a native Baltimorean." "At what time will it be convenient for me to call?" "Either in the morning or afternoon." "Shall we say ten o'clock, then?" "Yes." "I trust I shall not inconvenience your aunt by calling so early." "Not at all." "It is imperative that I catch a train for New York at twelve." Mr. Ludlow took his leave, after expressing his pleasure at having met Dorothy. The girl's feelings would be hard to describe. That her playing should have awakened the interest of a professional manager was to her rather astonishing. She was meditating over the offer, and wondering what her prim and staid Aunt Betty would think of it, when Frau Deichenberg entered the dressing-room. The Frau had been on the stage looking after several of the Herr's protégés, and was highly elated over the showing they had made. "My dear, my dear," she cried. "You have done nobly! Herr Deichenberg is pleased with you beyond measure." To which Dorothy responded: "If I have deserved his praise, I am glad. But it seems that I have done so little." "Ah, but did you not hear de audience? Dey liked your moosic, und dey clap their hands und stamp their feet. Dat iss de one true mark of appreciation." When the concert was over and Dorothy was traveling homeward in the barouche with Aunt Betty, she told her of the visit of Mr. Ludlow. Aunt Betty listened patiently until she had finished, then said: "Dear, I had supposed I was raising you up to something better than a stage career." "But, auntie, the stage is all right--it must be, there are so many fine people connected with it. And then, it would be the concert stage in my case, and that is different from dramatic work, you know." "Yes; but violinists, as well as other performers, sometimes listen to the call of the dollar, and go from the concert to the variety stage. I am not sure such connections would be the best for my little girl." "But, Aunt Betty, it is my life's ambition," said the girl, a queer little catch in her voice. "There, there," Aunt Betty responded, as she put her arm about the shoulder of her great-niece. "Don't take what I say so much to heart. We will think this matter over, and you may be very sure of one thing, dear--we shall do what is right and for the best." And with this for the time being Dorothy was forced to be content. The matter was put in abeyance for an indefinite time, however, by a message from Mr. Ludlow, the following morning, in which he said he had been called back to New York earlier than he had expected, but that he would not forget the girl, and upon his next visit to Baltimore during the course of the fall or winter, he would arrange to call and settle matters to Dorothy's entire satisfaction. "And who knows, by then I may have won Aunt Betty over," muttered the girl, who, however, decided to drop the subject until the opportune moment arrived to discuss it. CHAPTER XI CHRISTMAS AT BELLVIEU The fall days slipped rapidly by, and still Dorothy continued to take instruction from Herr Deichenberg, improving her technique with each lesson under the old music master's careful guidance. The concert had been a revelation to her. For the first time in her life she had stood before a great assemblage and heard the roars of applause which her playing aroused, and it had given her confidence as nothing else could. Aunt Betty's deep-rooted prejudice against a stage career was the only thing that served to mar the girl's pleasure, and even this caused no great unhappiness, for Aunt Betty's refusal to allow Dorothy to play professional engagements took the form only of feeble protests. This led the girl to hope her relative might gradually be won over. Then, as the holidays approached, bringing a letter from Molly in which she stated that she and the Judge would arrive at Bellvieu several days before Christmas, the stage career was for the time relegated to the innermost recesses of her mind, and she joined Aunt Betty in an effort to have a real, old-fashioned Christmas. This, with the aid of Ephraim, Dinah and Chloe, they were fortunately able to do. As the preparations went forward, Aunt Betty's delight knew no bounds, and her soul was filled with rapturousness as joy after joy unfolded itself to relieve the tedium and monotony of her old age. A week before the eventful day, Ephraim and Metty, with two other negroes, hired for the occasion, took a team and sleigh and set out for the timber along the shore of the bay. There had been a heavy fall of snow the night before and the ground was covered with a sparkling mantle, while an invigorating breeze from the north filled everyone with energetic desires. Once at their destination Ephraim and his men felled a large black gum tree from which two logs were cut. These were just short of four feet in length and cut with the especial purpose of filling the two large fire-places in the Calvert mansion. Returning late in the evening with their load, they rolled the big logs into the duck pond back of the barn, where the crust of ice was thin, there to soak until Christmas morning, at which time they would be placed in their respective fire-places in the big dining and living-rooms of the house, and a fire kindled. Ephraim was thoroughly familiar with the old custom, and it was understood between him and Aunt Betty that he should keep good fires burning during the day and banked during the night after bed time. Logs such as these would, by this process, last ten days, or until the holidays had come and gone, for they were burned until not a vestige remained but ashes. During the latter part of November Aunt Betty had caused a half dozen of her finest turkeys to be put up to fatten. Some days later several huge pound cakes had been baked and a nice little pig put in the pen to grow round and tender, later to be roasted whole, with a tempting red apple in his mouth. Mincemeat, souse, and stuffed sausages, those edibles of the early days, which Aunt Betty had grown to love and yearn for, were provided on this occasion by Chloe and Dinah, and when, a few days before Christmas, Metty returned from the woods with a fine, fat possum, the mistress of Bellvieu began to feel that her Christmas would be indeed complete. A store of sweet potatoes had been laid by, and green apple, pumpkin, potato and other pies made and stored in the cellar. In the days of Aunt Betty's girlhood, when there were no cooking stoves, turkeys were cooked in a turkey roaster made of sheet iron, with a dripping-pan in the bottom and a large tin lid, much resembling a buggy top, over the pan. When Mr. Turkey was stuffed and otherwise prepared for the feast, he was spitted on an iron rod that passed through the sides of the roaster and on through his body from end to end. Then he was ready for the finishing touches over a red-hot fire. The roasters had legs at each corner, so that hot embers could be placed under it when necessary. The tin top reflected the heat and had hinges so that it could be turned back when the cook basted the turkey with a prepared sauce. The dripping-pan at the bottom served to catch and hold the rich gravy. As Aunt Betty stood now, watching the preparations for the roasting of one of the turkeys, her thoughts traveled back to those other days, and she marveled at the progress of civilization. "Lawsee, Mis' Betty!" cried Chloe, as she stopped to wipe her hands on her gingham apron. "We's gwine tuh hab 'nuff food in dis yere house tuh feed er million people, looks like tuh me." Aunt Betty laughed. "Better too much than not enough," she observed. "I reckon there won't be much left by the time New Year's Day has come and gone. Gerald and Aurora Blank will be over for Christmas dinner, and will drop in for occasional meals during holiday week. Then, with Miss Molly and her father, and Herr and Frau Deichenberg, there will be a nice little party here at home. Those boys, Jim and Len, have appetites that will startle you. Oh, yes; we have lots to eat, Chloe, but--well, you just watch it disappear!" "Yas'm; we'll watch hit, all right, en I reckon, Mis' Betty, dat Ephy, Dinah en me'll sort o' _help_ it disappear, too!" Chloe, bending nearly double, guffawed loudly at her own joke. Aunt Betty smiled, too, then went to the front of the house to meet the carriage which had been sent to the train, with Dorothy and Jim in it, to meet Judge Breckenridge and Molly. Dorothy's chum waved her hand at Aunt Betty, then came hurrying up the walk, to be the first to greet the mistress of Bellvieu. Then came the Judge, cane in hand, assisted by Jim, looking much better, but still somewhat enfeebled in health. "I'm glad indeed to see you again, Judge Breckenridge," greeted Aunt Betty, as she clasped one of his hands in both her own. "I am particularly pleased to be able to welcome you to a Christmas at Bellvieu." "And I am more than pleased to be here," was the Judge's response. "I am sure it will be one of the most delightful trips of my life." Once inside, and ensconced in easy chairs in the living-room, Aunt Betty pressed him for news concerning his sister, Lucretia, as well as Mrs. Hungerford, Mrs. Stark and Mrs. Cook, not forgetting to ask if the Judge ever heard from Joel Snackenberg. These questions answered to her entire satisfaction, Aunt Betty excused herself to see to the preparing of the mid-day meal, leaving Jim to talk to the Judge. "I haven't seen you in a long time, my boy," said Molly's father, "but it seems to me you are growing into a fine, strong young man. Molly tells me you've left Dr. Sterling for good." "Yes, sir; I thought I'd better strike out for myself." "And what do you intend doing, if I may ask?" "I intend learning electricity, sir--in fact, it is on Dr. Sterling's advice that I do so. Aunt Betty through some of her friends here, has arranged to secure me a place the first of the year. I have been idle during the past few months waiting for this position to materialize, and I'm certainly glad it is coming out all right." "You will have to serve an apprenticeship, I suppose?" "Yes, sir." "Well, electricity is a good thing to know, Jim. I wish you every success. Hello--who is this?" The Judge's eyes were turned toward a lad who entered the room at that moment. It was Len Haley, attired in a brand new Christmas suit, and looking as spick and span as one could wish. "Oh, I'd forgotten you didn't know Len, sir. Surely you've heard Molly speak of Len Haley, sir? He's the boy we rescued from a cruel uncle on our camping trip last summer. Aunt Betty has had him under her wing ever since. This is Molly's father, Len." "Yes, yes," said the Judge. "So this is Len Haley, the boy who was lost in the woods in the dead of night?" The judge reached out and took Len's hand. "I am glad to know you, my boy, and to learn that you have found such a fortunate way around your troubles." "Thank you, sir." "Anyone whom Mrs. Betty Calvert stands sponsor for is surely to be envied." "I think so too, sir," said Len, beginning to thaw out under Judge Breckenridge's good-natured smile. When Dorothy and Molly came downstairs and joined them, they made a merry party. Molly had changed her traveling dress for a clean frock, and with her hair arranged prettily in the latest mode, made even Jim Barlow "sit up and take notice." As for the Judge and his gayety, if old in years, he was young in heart, and forgot his infirmities to such an extent that Aunt Betty, entering suddenly, threw up her hands in amazement. "I knew this trip would make a wonderful improvement in you, Judge," said she, "but had no idea the change would be effected in so rapid a manner." "I just can't help it, Mrs. Calvert. To see these young folks about me makes me feel young again, which reminds me that I have never been happier than when I once took the boys and girls on a jaunt through the Nova Scotia woods." "A jaunt that ended in my giving a house party at Deerhurst," said Dorothy. "That was after I had learned that I was not a homeless waif, but the great-niece of Mrs. Betty Calvert." "It was papa, if you remember, who ran down the clues leading to the discovery that Mrs. Calvert was your relative," said Molly. "And I'll never forget how overjoyed we all were when we knew to whom our girl friend was related," and the old Judge leaned over and stroked Dorothy's hand as he spoke. "Then came my humiliation," said Aunt Betty in a reminiscent tone. "I was forced to admit to you all that when my nephew's baby came I was indignant, feeling that I was too old to have a squalling infant forced upon me. Then, better thoughts prevailing, I saw in Dorothy traces of my own family likeness and wanted to keep her. Then I listened to Dinah and Ephraim, and finally took their advice to hunt up a worthy couple unburdened with children of their own, and force the child upon them to be reared in simple, sensible ways. When I found that you had discovered the relationship between us, I did only what my heart had been bidding me do for many years--took Dorothy to my bosom, and into my household where she belonged." Dinah came to the door to say that lunch was served, and the party filed into the dining-room to continue the discussion at the table. On the following morning--the day before Christmas--a great bundle of presents arrived from one of the Baltimore department stores, and was taken upstairs by Ephraim, there to be concealed. On the night before Christmas, following the time-honored custom, stockings of every size and color were strung up around the big fire-place in the living-room. Those of the Judge, Jim and Len not being large enough, garments of a satisfactory size were generously tendered by Dorothy and Molly. Going late to bed, hoping that old Santa Claus would be good to each of them, the young folks awoke in the morning to find their stockings fairly bulging with good things. There was a cane and a pocketbook from the Judge to Jim, and wearing apparel running from neckties to shirts from Aunt Betty and the girls. Len came in for a similar lot of presents, his gift from the Judge being a shining five-dollar gold piece, which he declared should go in the savings bank as a foundation of his fortune. Dorothy and Molly were well remembered, the gifts being both pretty and useful, and running principally to toilet articles and lingerie, while Aunt Betty found great difficulty in lifting her stocking from its peg over the fire-place, so heavy was it. Early Christmas morning came a belated 'phone message from Herr Deichenberg, accepting on the part of him and Frau Deichenberg, the kind invitation extended by Aunt Betty to gather around the festive Christmas board. It had been necessary to postpone two lessons, the music master said, which accounted for the delay in letting them know. At ten o'clock Gerald and Aurora arrived. There had been a slight protest on the part of Mr. and Mrs. Blank at the children being away from home for Christmas dinner, but a compromise had been effected by which they were to eat with their parents on New Year's Day. With the arrival of Herr and Frau Deichenberg nothing then remained but to serve the dinner. Metty and Ephraim were both pressed into service, and with Chloe and Dinah working like Trojans in the kitchen, the meal was served on scheduled time, and to the entire satisfaction of everyone concerned. Tale and jest passed around the table, as the members of the Christmas party made merry. "Christmas comes but once a year," some one has said, and with this in their minds, trouble was given its _conge_ for the time being, and mirth and gayety reigned supreme. Herr Deichenberg was asked to tell of the old German customs at Christmas time, which he did in an interesting way. He told of the toymakers of Nuremberg and other cities, and how easily and dexterously they did their work. Then there were many humorous incidents of his own boyhood, which he remembered and told with such success, that he had the entire party roaring with laughter before the meal was half over. When he had finished, the Judge and Aunt Betty took turns telling of strange and funny incidents that had come under their observation at various Christmas times, and by the time dessert was reached everyone felt at peace with the world. It was a dinner long to be remembered, and when it was over they all gathered in the living-room, where the Herr was induced to play a number of his favorite pieces, Dorothy's violin being pressed into service for the occasion. Dorothy next took her turn with the violin, Herr Deichenberg playing her accompaniments on the piano. Molly, who had not heard her chum play for many months, was astonished at the progress she had made, as was the Judge, and they complimented both master and pupil, after three pieces had been rendered. The players then stopped under protest, promising to play more before the gathering broke up. Jim sang a bass solo. Gerald also rendered a song, his sweet tenor voice delighting his auditors, after which the old quartette of the mountain camp was formed again and sang familiar pieces in such a manner as to win the heartiest of commendation from all--even that captious critic, Herr Deichenberg. Aunt Betty was asked to speak one of her girlhood pieces, but begged to be allowed to substitute old Ephraim, who, upon being urged, recited the following verses, remembered since his earliest recollection: "Sho' 'nuff, is dat yo', buddie? Why, I sca'ce beliebs mah eyes! Yo's growed so slendah en so tall, I like not tuh know yo' size. Does yo' eber hunt de possum-- Climb de ole p'simmon tree? Like we did in de good ole times W'en de niggah wasn't free? We'd take ole Tige, en den a torch, Den we'd start out fo' a spree, Lots o' fellers wuz in dat chase, Erside, mah boy, frum yo' en me, After a w'ile ole Tige'd yelp, Den we'd know dar's sumpthin' round, Er rabbit, coon, er possum, sho', Er gittin' ober de ground. W'en up de tree de possum run, Den ole Tige he'd change he tune, Den wif de torch we'd shine his eyes Den we'd nab him pretty soon, We'd break he neck, en build er fire Den a tater roast, yo' mind; Why, bress yo' heart, dis make me cry, Nebber mo' dem times yo' find. De Massa's gone--ole Missus, gone, En mah ole woman am, too; I'm laid up now wif rheumatiz, En mah days am growin' few. Ole Tige mos' blind en crippled up, So dat he can't hunt no mo'; No possums now tuh grease de chops, Oh, I's feelin' mighty po'!" As Ephraim concluded he made a most elaborate bow, touching his hand to his forelock--or where the forelock should have been. The old negro's interested listeners burst into loud applause, and the bow was repeated again and again. The verses had been rendered with considerable feeling and some sense of their poetic value, which, of course, Ephraim had learned from hearing the verses recited by others. Len Haley, upon being called on for a contribution to the entertainment, spoke the first--and last--piece he had learned during the few short months he had attended school. It was a temperance piece, and if not thoroughly in keeping with the festive occasion, was at least one of the most earnest efforts of the afternoon. Aurora, who was an elocutionist of no mean merit, rendered Longfellow's "Hiawatha," with such realistic touches that Herr Deichenberg sat spellbound through her recital, to spring up and grasp her hand when she had finished. "My dear girl," he cried, "dat was excellent--excellent. I am proud, indeed, to know you." "I trust you will never have occasion to change your mind," was the girl's pleasant response. The entertainment over, Herr Deichenberg and Judge Breckenridge engaged in a checker contest, which was so closely fought that the others stopped whatever they were doing to look on. The Herr was finally triumphant, taking four games out of seven. When the Christmas party broke up that evening, all were agreed that it had been one of the most glorious holiday times they had ever spent. CHAPTER XII MR. LUDLOW'S OFFER The holidays passed all too quickly to the happy party at Old Bellvieu. Herr and Frau Deichenberg came no more during the stay of the Judge and Molly, but Gerald and Aurora were over nearly every evening. One night, toward the close of the week, Aunt Betty and the Judge chaperoned a party of young people, including Dorothy, Molly, Aurora, Gerald, Jim and Len to the theater, where one of the reigning comic opera successes was on view. It was an imported piece of the "Merry Widow" type, and everyone enjoyed it to the utmost. Aunt Betty and the Judge found their risibilities thoroughly shaken by the antics of the star, a comedian of prominence, while the tastes of the young people seemed to incline toward the bright chorus numbers, and the individual songs and duets. Len was perhaps the most joyous member of the party. It was his first experience at the theater, and the elaborate stage settings, the bright lights, and the catchy music had opened to him the gates of Fairyland, as it were. When one of the characters cracked a joke, and the comedian replied that he was very fond of walnuts and hickory nuts, but not at all partial to chestnuts, Len nearly fell out of his seat, and the young lady who followed them on the stage was well through her song before he controlled his laughter enough to realize what was going on. Len's merriment so pleased Aunt Betty and Judge Breckenridge that they, too, burst into laughter, which continued until a whispered "Sh!" from Dorothy warned them that they were attracting the attention of others in the theater. Then the Judge put his finger to his lips and looked solemnly at Len and Aunt Betty, whereupon the trio instantly became sober, and turned their attention again to the stage. After the theater the Judge insisted on treating the party to hot chocolate and cake, so they were led to a popular resort often frequented during the days by Dorothy and Aurora. This served to round off a very pleasant evening, and as there was nothing to prevent each member of the party from sleeping late the following morning, their happiness was complete. So urgently did Aunt Betty and Dorothy beg Molly and the Judge to spend the early part of January with them, that the Judge consented, greatly to Molly's delight. "Business really demands my attention in New York," he said, "but I suppose that can wait another week. We don't have times like this every year, do we Molly, girl?" "Indeed, no," responded the person addressed. "But it will not be my fault hereafter, if you do not have them each year," said Aunt Betty. "I hereby issue a standing invitation for you both to spend the next holiday season with us, and the next, and the next, and so on, and next year, Judge, you must bring your sister Lucretia. It was an oversight on my part in not inviting her on this occasion." "Lucretia has been very busy doing some settlement work, and Christmas is her busy time, hence, she would have been unable to accept your kind invitation. Next year, however, things may have changed. If so, we shall certainly bring her with us." There followed a succession of trips to nearby points of interest. The snow, which lay thick during the holidays, began to melt soon after the new year dawned, and, the roads drying hard, Gerald came over one day in the auto and took them for a jaunt in the country. A fishing excursion to the shores of the bay on another day, with Jim and Ephraim as the pilots, served to demonstrate to the Judge that he was every bit as good a fisherman as he had been in the early days, for he caught eight speckled sea-trout, and three red-fish--a better record than was made by any other member of the party. Finally, the Judge and Molly took their departure, the former declaring that the duties in New York had become imperative ones. Dorothy hated to lose her chum again, they saw each other so seldom, but agreed with Molly that the latter must spend some time in her own home. Then, as February passed, and the winds of March began to make themselves felt, things settled down to their usual routine at Bellvieu. Dorothy, who had resumed her lessons immediately upon Molly's departure, was fast approaching a point where, Herr Deichenberg declared, she would be able to appear before an audience in the most critical of musical centers. He advised that she immediately seek the opportunity, or allow him to seek one for her. Again Aunt Betty interposed a mild objection, and the music master, with a sly wink at Dorothy, observed under his breath: "Just leave it to me." This Dorothy did, and with good results, as will be seen. She dropped the subject entirely when Aunt Betty was around, resolved to wait until the psychological moment arrived to again broach the matter, or until she heard further from Herr Deichenberg. Two weeks passed and finally Herr Deichenberg came out to the house one morning with Mr. Ludlow, whom he presented to Aunt Betty. At first the mistress of Bellvieu was inclined to receive the theatrical man coldly, believing he had come to entice her niece away, but gradually, under Herr Deichenberg's careful urging, she began to see matters in a new light. "Mr. Ludlow has no desire to take Miss Dorothy avay from you," said the Herr, earnestly. "Please believe me vhen I tell you. Also believe me vhen I say dat all of Miss Dorothy's lessons vill go for naught, if she does not seek a time und place to exploit her talents. There is open for her a career of great prominence--of dat I am very sure, but to attain de pinnacle of success, she must first go a few steps above de middle rounds of de ladder. Mr. Ludlow has a good proposition to make to her, und one dat meets with my hearty approval. I beg of you, Mrs. Calvert, listen carefully to vhat he has to say, und deliberate before you give him an answer." "If Dorothy's welfare is at stake I shall listen, of course; I should have listened, anyway, but with some prejudice, I will admit. I cannot see where it will do my niece any great good to become a stage celebrity, but if Mr. Ludlow can convince me, I stand ready to acknowledge my error." "I am sure that is fair enough," said Mr. Ludlow, smiling genially. He had a pleasant personality--refined, even striking in the more serious moments, and Aunt Betty felt attracted to him the instant he began to speak. "A career for your niece, Mrs. Calvert--a professional career--under proper management, is distinctly the proper thing for her. I heard her play at Herr Deichenberg's concert here last fall, and knew at once that she had an exceptional amount of talent, which, if fostered, under the Herr's careful methods, would make of her one of the musical wonders of the age. It was then I made my offer--which was merely a tentative one--to Miss Calvert, not meaning to in any way override your authority, but merely for the purpose of sounding her out and winning a promise that she would give me an option on her services, provided she decided to adopt the concert stage as a career." "She told me of her conversation with you," returned Aunt Betty, "and I am free to admit that I was prejudiced against it." "You were also prejudiced against riding fast in Gerald's automobile, auntie," said Dorothy, smiling. "But Gerald overcame that just as Mr. Ludlow is going to try to overcome this." "From speeding in an automobile, to adopting the concert stage as a career, is a far cry, my dear," returned Aunt Betty, rather severely, Dorothy thought. Had she known what was passing in her relative's mind, however, the girl would not for a moment have condemned her. Had she known, for instance, that Aunt Betty's prejudice against the stage as a career was not at the bottom of her refusal, but the fact that she feared Dorothy would be taken away from her in her old age, just when she had found her a second time, and learned to know and love her, she would have immediately thrown her arms around Aunt Betty's neck and making no comment have kissed her affectionately. "Of course, I do not know the state of your finances, nor would I be so presuming as to inquire," Mr. Ludlow went on, "but it may interest you to know that if Miss Dorothy goes on the concert stage it will mean quite a tidy sum of money for her--and money, I am sure, will always prove a handy asset to have around. So, both artistically and financially, it seems the proper thing for her to do." "But I have heard that girls on the stage are exposed to many temptations," protested Aunt Betty, who felt the ground slipping from under her arguments. Realizing, as she did, that it was Dorothy's wish that she give the concert stage a trial, she was inclined to be lenient. "A wrong impression, madame--an entirely wrong impression," said Mr. Ludlow, emphatically. "There are temptations in stage life, yes; but so there are in other professions, and he or she who falters will find their steps to be hard ones, no matter who they are or where they be. Force of character rules on the stage, Mrs. Calvert, just as it does in every other walk of life. Thus it is that the theatrical profession shelters some of the smartest, most wonderful women the world has ever known. Because a few notoriety seekers have caused the finger of scorn to be pointed at an honorable profession, just as one dishonest employé can, and frequently does, cause a whole institution to be looked at with suspicion, should the dramatic profession, as a whole, be made to suffer? I ask you this in all fairness, madame, and await your answer." "Well, really, I hadn't considered it in that light," said Aunt Betty, slowly, deliberately. "I believe you are right, Mr. Ludlow, and I thank you sincerely for changing my viewpoint. Ever since I saw that great play, 'The Music Master,' with David Warfield in the part of Herr von Barwig, I have wondered if the theatrical profession was wholly a bad one. Now, I think I understand." "I am glad it remained for me to tell you, Mrs. Calvert." "And if my niece sees fit to arrange with you for a metropolitan appearance, and you feel that it will be a great triumph for her, I shall certainly not stand in the way." "Oh, you dear, good auntie!" Dorothy cried, throwing her arms about Mrs. Calvert's neck and giving her a resounding kiss. "I shall thank you all my life for those few words." "Mrs. Calvert, you have made a very sensible decision," Herr Deichenberg remarked with no little degree of satisfaction. "Believe me, I know vhat I say iss true. Und now, if you vill please allow Mr. Ludlow to make some necessary arrangements before he takes his leave, it vill greatly facilitate matters." Aunt Betty quickly assented, and turning to Dorothy, Mr. Ludlow said: "What I wish is for you to appear at a preliminary concert in New York City, at a date yet to be decided upon. You will be under the watchful eye of your music master, and the affair will be given under his auspices. You will, perhaps, have some prominent vocalist to help you fill in the evening's entertainment. I wish to know if this will be agreeable?" "Yes, if the date is not too soon," the girl replied. "As to that, we shall suit your pleasure, so it occurs before warm weather sets in." "It need not be later than the first of May." "Then please sign this contract. I have drawn it up with the approval of Herr Deichenberg, but before attaching your name, I will ask you to read it and be sure you thoroughly understand it." "Perhaps my lawyers might--" Aunt Betty began. Herr Deichenberg raised his hand in dissent. "Madame, it iss unnecessary. I am familiar with every form of contract und I say to you dat de one offered your niece by Mr. Ludlow is equitable and just, and can only be to her advantage." "We will take your word, of course," replied Aunt Betty. "The only reason I spoke is that neither Dorothy or myself is well versed in contracts of any sort." "The very reason why I prepared the contract after suggestions offered by Herr Deichenberg," said Mr. Ludlow with a good-natured smile. "Oh, Aunt Betty!" cried Dorothy, as she read the document, "for one appearance in New York, I am to receive one hundred dollars and my expenses both ways. I think that is a very liberal offer." "Merely a pittance, Miss Calvert, beside what you will get if your concert pleases the music lovers of the metropolis, who, as you are no doubt aware, are the most discriminating in the country." "Oh, I hope I shall please them. I shall try so hard." "You just leave dat to me," said Herr Deichenberg. "Any young lady who played as you did at my concert, need have no fear of facing a metropolitan audience." "The plan is, Miss Calvert," Mr. Ludlow went on, in a thoroughly business-like tone, "if your New York concert proves a success, for you to sign contracts to appear next season under my management in the principal cities of the country. When we know positively that this is advisable, we will discuss terms, and I assure you we shall not quarrel over the matter of a few dollars, more or less." "I'm sure we won't," replied Dorothy. Aunt Betty found herself hoping for the success of the plan. All opposition to the matter seemed, for the time, to have slipped her mind. Mr. Ludlow bade them good-by shortly after, and left in company with Herr Deichenberg. Dorothy closed the door softly behind them, then, happy that her ambition was at last to become a reality, threw herself in the arms of Aunt Betty and sobbed: "Oh, auntie, auntie, it has come at last, but it won't--it won't take me away from you." "We must not be too sure of that, my dear," Aunt Betty replied, as calmly as she could. Her wildly-beating heart cried out for the love and sympathy that she knew only this girl could give her. How could she ever, ever bear to give her up? "Auntie, dear," Dorothy said, straightening up and wiping her eyes with quick, nervous little dabs, "if such a thing as separation is even suggested, I shall never move a step from old Bellvieu--never, never!" "Oh, my dear, I cannot expect you to give up a great career for me." "What would any sort of a career be without you? Nothing--absolutely nothing! I wouldn't listen to it for a moment. Where I go there you shall go also." "But I am getting too old to travel." Aunt Betty's protest, however, sounded rather feeble. "Nonsense!" the girl replied. "You were the very life of our camping party, and I'm sure riding in railroad trains is not half so strenuous as speeding forty miles an hour over country roads in an automobile. No objections, now, auntie dear, unless you want me to give up my career before it is begun." "No, no, of course, I--" "Of course you don't want me to do that. Certainly not. For that very reason, if for no other, you are going to accompany me wherever I go, which means that you may as well start planning that new spring dress, for we will be traveling New Yorkward ere many weeks have passed." "Do you think blue would be becoming, dear?" Dorothy could have laughed outright with delight, when she saw how quickly Aunt Betty became lost in contemplation over what she should wear on the trip. "Well, yes, if it is of the proper shade, auntie, but you know nothing becomes you so well as black." "Black it shall be, then--black panama, with a nice new bonnet to match." "And I, auntie, dear, what shall _I_ wear? How are we to afford all these fine things when our finances are at a low ebb?" "Our finances are in better condition than they were, dear. A letter a few days since from my lawyers, states that certain property I have placed in their hands is rapidly increasing in value, and that I shall be able to realize from time to time such sums as I may need." "Oh, I'm so glad! Strange you didn't tell me." "I'd forgotten it. I really believe I am getting absent-minded." Had Dorothy known the truth--that though the lawyers had agreed to advance certain sums, it meant a mortgage on old Bellvieu, her peace of mind would have been sadly disturbed. But Aunt Betty took good care she did not know it--self-sacrificing soul that she was. CHAPTER XIII IN THE METROPOLIS New York! A magic word to Dorothy Calvert, and as she stepped from the train in the great Pennsylvania railway station, curiosity and interest were expressed in her glance. Not since her trip to California with Aunt Betty and Ephraim had the girl been in Gay Gotham, which, to her, had always been a place of great enchantment. The noise of the trains, the clangor of trucks, as they were whirled up and down the station platform by the baggagemen; the noise of the subway and surface cars, mingled with countless other sounds, were sufficient to distract any girl's attention, and Dorothy came out of her reverie and turned, only when Aunt Betty cried out from the car steps: "Dorothy Calvert, wherever are you going?" "Oh, I--" "Are you going to leave me behind?" "I--I--why, auntie--I--" "One would think you had never been in a great city before. Wait for me! Remember, I am going everywhere you go. You did not bring me this far from Bellvieu to leave me in the lurch, young lady." "Goodness knows, I had no idea of doing anything of the sort, auntie." "Well, you just wait! I'm not as spry as I used to be." Jim Barlow carefully helped Aunt Betty to the platform, while Ephraim followed with a load of suit cases. Then came Herr and Frau Deichenberg, each with a little hand satchel, the professor guarding jealously his beloved violin. No heavy luggage for the Deichenbergs, the Frau had told Aunt Betty on the journey up from Baltimore. "Ve shan't be here for long; de concert occurs to-morrow night, und ve shall go straight back home vhen ve are t'rough," was the way she put it. The Herr was attired in his customary black. He had maintained his usual phlegmatic manner all through the journey, and apparently had no intention of departing from it now. Having spent many years in New York after his arrival in America, the city's fascination for the average mortal seemed to make no appeal to him. Once off the train, Jim began to search diligently in the crowd for a familiar face. For a moment a blank look expressed his disappointment. Then his features lighted up and he waved his hand at a tall, spectacled gentleman who came eagerly forward to meet him. "Jim, I am glad to see you," greeted this individual. "And I to see you, Dr. Sterling." A hearty hand-clasp followed. "Why it _is_ Dr. Sterling!" cried Aunt Betty, adjusting her glasses that she might better see him. "How good it seems to find you here in New York. How did you leave things up the Hudson, and especially at Deerhurst?" "Same as of yore," he replied. "Hans and Griselda, faithful souls, are keeping the place in spick and span condition." His face lighted suddenly. "And here is Miss Dorothy, grown into a tall young lady since last I saw her." "Don't accuse me of being too tall, Dr. Sterling," said Dorothy, in a tone of mild reproof. "That is getting to be a sore subject with me. I have no intention of being either a toothpick or a beanstalk, though if what my friends tell me is true, I am in a fair way to be either, or both." Dr. Sterling laughed. "You mustn't mind a bit of a joke, you know. You are at an age where nothing can stop your growth. Your height seems to you exaggerated--that's all--and your friends merely perpetuate the belief with the idea of teasing you." "I'll take your word for that, doctor. And now, let me present my music teacher, Herr Deichenberg, and Mrs. Deichenberg," Dorothy then said. The introductions were duly acknowledged, after which the party went into the station, and thence to the street beyond. "Where are you going to stop?" Dr. Sterling wanted to know, as he turned an inquisitive glance on Aunt Betty. "I've forgotten the name of the place," replied the mistress of Bellvieu, "but Herr Deichenberg can enlighten you. He wired ahead for the rooms." "It iss de Arlington," the music master vouchsafed. "De proprietor iss a personal friend of mine, und de accommodations vill be of de very best." "Then I shall immediately change my quarters," said the genial doctor. "I am farther down town, but as we are to be in the city but a couple of days, it is well for us to be together as much as possible." This programme was followed to the letter, and before noon Dorothy and Aunt Betty had washed, and changed their attire for fresh, clean linen suits, after which they announced themselves in readiness for any events that might be on the programme. Dr. Sterling, who had been holding a conference with Jim, proposed a boat trip down the bay. "Oh, that will be delightful," Dorothy said. "How can it be arranged?" "I have a friend in New York, a Mr. Ronald, who owns a very handsome private yacht. This he has placed at my disposal on all occasions. I shall immediately call him up by 'phone and find if the boat is available for this afternoon." This the doctor did, and returned a few moments later with the good news that Mr. Ronald would personally see that the party viewed all the sights of the bay and river front. While at lunch one of the surprises of the day revealed itself in the shape of Judge Breckenridge and Molly, who walked in on the astonished Calverts totally unannounced. "Molly!" "Dorothy!" These exclamations were followed by a bear-like hug as the girls flew into each other's arms. Many of the diners became interested and stopped eating long enough to watch the lingering embrace to the end. The Judge shook hands all around, then places were made for him and Molly at the table occupied by Aunt Betty, Dorothy and Jim. Dorothy quickly won their promise to go down the bay in the yacht, and lunch over, the party immediately made preparations to start. Herr Deichenberg and his wife were sure the trip would prove rather trying for them, as neither was fond of the water, so decided to remain at the hotel and receive Mr. Ludlow, who was due at four o'clock. Upon Dorothy's insisting that perhaps she had better stay and meet the manager, also, the Herr shook his head. "No, no; dat iss entirely unnecessary." "Then give him my regards, and say that I shall see him to-night or in the morning," cried the girl. "I vill do dat. In de meantime enjoy yourself. Forget there iss such a t'ing as a concert. To-morrow night, vhen you stand before de great audience in de theater, iss time enough to t'ink of dat." Aunt Betty at first thought she, too, would remain behind, but after lunch she was feeling in such unusually good spirits that she announced her intention of going, if only to have an old-time chat with the Judge. "Auntie, you are getting younger every day," cried Dorothy, pleased that her relative was so spry at her advanced age. "And I intend to continue to grow younger as long as I may, dear. It is a privilege not given many women, and I shall make the most of it. If I have the opportunity I may even set my cap for a beau." "Oh, Aunt Betty, how can you say such a thing!" "'Such a thing,' as you call it, would be perfectly proper. Would it not, Judge Breckenridge?" "Quite proper, madame--quite proper," responded the judge gallantly--"in fact, judging by the evidence of my eyes, I see no other solution of the matter." "What a gallant speech," laughed Molly. "You may be a semi-invalid, papa, but you will never, never lose your courtly ways." "An example which all young men should emulate," said Aunt Betty, looking pointedly at Jim, who grinned broadly. It was a merry party that boarded the trim gasoline yacht _Nautilus_ at one of the wharves an hour later. Aunt Betty, assisted by the Judge and Jim, was the first aboard. Doctor Sterling, with Dorothy and Molly followed. The owner of the yacht was introduced by Dr. Sterling, and when all were comfortably seated in the deck chairs forward, Mr. Ronald signaled the man in the wheelhouse, who in turn signaled the engine-room to go ahead. "Ah, this is my style of boating," sighed the Judge, as, with a deep sigh of satisfaction he dropped into one of the comfortable chairs on the forward deck. "When a boy I used to sail a little sloop, but after all, it is better to have something to push you besides the wind." The steamer whistle screeched hoarsely. "We're off!" cried Dr. Sterling. Though a strong breeze, in which there was a tinge of dampness, came in from the ocean as the yacht went spinning down the bay, no one chose to retire to the cabin, even Aunt Betty protesting that the fresh air was doing her good. A heavy swell was running, but the _Nautilus_ weathered the waves in true ocean style, only a slight rocking movement being perceptible. When they were well started down the bay, Mr. Ronald came to ask if they cared to visit the Statue of Liberty. "I think that's an excellent idea," said Dr. Sterling. "Judge Breckenridge and Mrs. Calvert cannot, of course, climb the spiral stairs leading up into the statue, but we younger people can, and will, if you say the word." "Oh, I think it will be jolly," cried Dorothy, who had seen the Statue of Liberty from the Brooklyn bridge and wondered what was inside it. Molly and Jim fell promptly in with the plan, so the yacht was moored to the little island, after which Dr. Sterling guided the girls and Jim up to the dizzy height represented by the statue's hand. Quite a climb it was, too, but one which amply rewarded them, for they were able to gaze out over city and bay to such an advantage that they were loath to descend. Back to the yacht they finally went, however, and the _Nautilus_ again turned her nose down the upper bay. On one side lay Brooklyn, on the other Jersey City, while about them craft of all shapes and sizes puffed and snorted as they performed their daily tasks. On down into the lower bay the yacht went skimming, breasting the heavy swells of the Atlantic, and causing exclamations of delight from both Molly and Dorothy, neither of whom had ever been this far at sea. Down between the upper quarantine and the Staten Island shore they went at a speed of twelve knots, then, rounding the lower quarantine, stood straight for Rockaway Beach. It was too early in the season for any of the resorts to be open, hence the girls were unable to view the scenes of activity that make these famous places the mecca of the bathers in the warm season. "I imagine I should like to spend a summer here," said Dorothy. "And perhaps some of these days you will have the opportunity--who knows?" remarked Aunt Betty. "Well, when she comes I must be included in the party or there will be big trouble," Molly put in. "Lots of trouble you'd make your best chum, young lady," replied Aunt Betty, chucking the Judge's daughter playfully under the chin. After a run of some twenty minutes, the yacht again turned, this time nosing its way back along the coast toward the lower bay. "In a few moments, I will show you Brighton and Manhattan Beaches," said Dr. Sterling--"also the famous Coney Island of which you have heard so much." "I should dearly love to visit Coney," said Dorothy. "I have been there twice," said Molly, proudly, "and it is a veritable city of wonders. I have never been able to understand how a brain can conceive all those funny things which amuse you." "Great brains are capable of many things in these days," Jim said. "Oh, are they now, my noble philosopher?" "Yes, Miss Saucy, they are!" "What's that stretch of water east of us, with all the little islands in it?" asked Dorothy, suddenly. "That is Jamaica Bay," replied Mr. Ronald. "It lies across the peninsula from Rockaway Beach." "I thought Jamaica was in the West Indies, or some other forsaken spot," said Molly. "Come, come," chided Dr. Sterling. "Remember your geography." "You certainly ought to know where the ginger comes from," said Jim, in the same bantering spirit. "Well, I guess I do, if anybody asks you, Mr. Barlow," she returned, saucily. "But that's no sign I knew there was a Jamaica Bay in New York State. My geography didn't teach me that." "Of course it did," taunted the boy, "but you did not take the trouble to remember it." Further discussion of this unimportant subject was cut short by a crash from the engine-room of the yacht, followed by a hissing noise as of escaping steam, and the propeller, which was being driven at many thousands of revolutions per minute, began suddenly to slow up. A shriek from Aunt Betty drew Dorothy quickly to her side, while Mr. Ronald cried out: "Something has happened to the engine!" Then he made a dash below decks, followed by Dr. Sterling, and, a few seconds later, by Jim, who saw in the yacht's misfortune another opportunity to satisfy his mechanical curiosity. The boy reached the engine-room directly on the heels of Mr. Ronald and Dr. Sterling, and saw the engineer and his assistant flat on their backs trying to locate the trouble. "Something apparently broke inside her, sir," the engineer was saying, in response to a question from Mr. Ronald. "I can't say how serious it is till we find it, sir." "Then of course you do not know how long we shall be delayed?" "No; I couldn't say, sir. Can't even promise that we can run in on one pair of cylinders, sir, for they all seem to be affected alike." At this a shadow overspread the owner's face and he turned to Dr. Sterling. "Sorry, Doc," he said. "What did you tell me about getting to town before dark?" "I merely mentioned the fact that Miss Calvert should be early to bed, because she appears at a concert to-morrow evening, and it is necessary that she feel as well as possible." "It is after four now," said Mr. Ronald, looking at his watch, "and I don't know what to tell you until Sharley--that's my engineer--locates the trouble." "Then perhaps we had better withhold from those on deck the fact that there may be an indefinite delay, merely making the general statement that the trouble is being rectified as rapidly as possible." "Very well; will you tell them, and make my excuses? I shall want to stay pretty close here till this trouble is found." "I'll tell them," said the doctor, and motioning Jim to follow went on deck. So the news which, poorly told, might have brought consternation to Dorothy and her aunt, merely aroused their curiosity. Soon they were laughing and talking with all thoughts of the accident gone from their minds. Meanwhile, below, Mr. Ronald, Sharley and the assistant engineer, were going over every inch of the gasoline motors, hoping to find what had been the cause of their sudden refusal to do their work. Screws were tightened and several other minor matters remedied. Then Sharley signaled the pilot house that he was going to try her again. Having tested his batteries with the buzzer, and adjusted the timer, he turned on the gasoline and slowly opened the throttle. There was no response. Sharley repeated the operation several times without getting the desired explosion. Then he retested the batteries with the buzzer and adjusted the carburetor, discovering that the gasoline had not been turned on at that point--or, at least, had been turned off after the trouble started. More cranking followed, but without success. The _Nautilus_ was now drifting in toward the shore, and a peep through a porthole told Sharley that he would be upon the sands of Rockaway if something were not done soon. "Told you she ought to have a sail equipment for emergencies," he said to Mr. Ronald. "Yes; you told me--that's not your fault. The question now is, what are we going to do?" "Nothing that I can see but throw out our anchor. Ain't more than twenty feet of water here, and she's growing less all the time." "But I can't throw out the anchor without alarming the ladies." "Have to alarm 'em, then, I guess. That's better than going aground and paying somebody salvage to get you off, eh, Mr. Ronald?" and the engineer laughed. Mr. Ronald admitted the force of the statement, then went on deck to break the news to his guests. CHAPTER XIV THE STORM Mr. Ronald's appearance on deck was the signal for a jubilant shout from Dorothy, Molly and Jim. "Now we'll be off again in a jiffy!" Molly cried. "I can see it in Mr. Ronald's face." "Which only goes to show that looks are really deceiving," returned the owner of the yacht, good-naturedly. "What!" cried Dorothy, while Molly gave vent to a disappointed, "Oh!" "Do you mean that the engineer hasn't yet got to the seat of the trouble?" queried Dr. Sterling. "I regret to say that his efforts are not meeting with the success we had hoped for, and as we are slowly drifting in toward the beach, with only a few feet of water under our keel, we shall be forced to drop anchor, pending further developments in the engine-room." "That means that the trouble is serious," groaned Aunt Betty. "Not necessarily," said Judge Breckenridge, in an encouraging tone, "but if we run aground we will be 'suah 'nuff' in trouble, as old Ephraim would say." "The trouble is merely temporary, I assure you," Mr. Ronald went on. "If you will excuse me again, I'll order the anchor dropped. Then we can at least make our minds easy as to where we will stay until the trouble is located." The others nodded their assent and he hurried forward. A moment later, with a rattling of chains, the anchor plunged into the waters of the bay. Mr. Ronald then rejoined his guests, and in spite of the anxiety that was surging in Dorothy's breast, she entered into the spirit of the occasion with the others. Story and jest rang out over the water as the sun gradually approached the horizon. It was after six when Sharley came on deck to say that the trouble was as elusive as ever. "We've been over every inch of her," he said, "and can't find a thing the matter. Yet, she won't budge an inch. The gasoline supply is O. K., and the batteries are in good shape. There's no trouble at all about exploding the spark, but I can't get the engine to turn a wheel, sir." Mr. Ronald cast an uneasy glance toward the eastern sky, where a heavy bank of clouds was appearing above the sky-line. The rapidity with which they were approaching seemed to indicate that a storm was brewing. He said nothing of this to his guests, though, but smilingly remarked that he would go below again to go over the matter another time with Sharley. Then owner and engineer disappeared below decks together. Anxiously those on deck awaited some report from the engine-room; but the minutes slipped by and none came. Finally, Dorothy noticed the approaching storm, and gave vent to a startled exclamation, which, caused Aunt Betty to jump, and Molly to grab her chum nervously by the arm. "What is it?" Aunt Betty wanted to know. Dorothy extended her finger toward the formidable looking bank of clouds. "A storm is coming," she replied, "and if we don't hurry and fix the engines we shall be caught in it." As if in answer to Dorothy's remark, Mr. Ronald appeared on deck at this instant. His face wore a troubled expression and the hopes of the guests fell as they noticed it. "It's of no use; we can't find the trouble," he said. "Looks very like we were in a trap and destined to quite a stay." The wind had already commenced to blow. The _Nautilus_ had swung around bow on to the east and was tugging viciously at her anchor. "If some other boat would only come by and pick us up!" cried Aunt Betty. "Why, we may have to stay out here all night." "What of it?" queried Judge Breckenridge. "Why, Dorothy will be in no shape for the concert to-morrow night--that's what of it. And Herr and Frau Deichenberg will be worried over our continued absence." "The cabin of the yacht will afford comfortable sleeping quarters for you ladies," said Mr. Ronald. "I regret this occurrence, but now that we are here, with no prospect for getting away under several hours, we must make the best of a bad bargain." "Let me suggest that we all go inside," said Dr. Sterling. "The wind is getting too cool for you, Mrs. Calvert." "I suppose that's an insinuation against my age," returned the person addressed, with some spirit. "But I'll forgive you, doctor; we had best look the facts in the face." She arose as she spoke, and taking Jim's arm, walked slowly toward the cabin. The others followed. No sooner were they inside than the storm descended with a roar. Sheets of water, wind-driven, beat against the windows of the cabin, and the yacht rose on top of great waves to plunge down into the trough of the sea with a motion that gave Aunt Betty a sinking feeling. "It's like going down in an elevator," she confided to Dorothy. "I just know I'm going to be seasick." "You will if you think about it every minute," said Dr. Sterling. "Get your mind on something else and you will be all right." "Easier said than done, doctor." "Oh, I don't know. Now, that reminds me of a story," and he went on to relate a certain incident of his career which took the thoughts of seasickness and storm away from Aunt Betty's mind. It soon grew so dark it became necessary to switch on the electric lights. Then, while the yacht rolled and tossed on the heavy waves, Mr. Ronald and his guests entertained themselves as best they could. Through the windows a glare marked the location of the city, though no objects were visible on the ink-black surface of the water. As Dorothy looked longingly out into the darkness she wondered what Herr Deichenberg and Mr. Ludlow would be thinking by this time. Knowing she had gone out on the yacht, and that a storm had descended on both bay and city, they would be worried, no doubt, and there was no means of communicating with them to allay their fears until the yacht was able to pull up anchor and steam into the city by her own motive power. And this seemed unlikely to happen soon, for no word of encouragement had come from the engine-room, though Engineer Sharley and his assistant were still making a diligent search for the trouble. Fortunately the larder of the _Nautilus_ was well-stocked with food, and Mr. Ronald, with the help of one of the deck hands, was able to serve a very satisfactory lunch to the storm-bound, hungry guests. Steaming coffee was made on a little electric range, and this, with rolls, canned salmon, and bread and butter, served to satisfy the appetites of all. "How nice and cozy this would be," said Molly, as they were gathered about the table, "if it were not storming so hard, and Dorothy was not worried as to when she is to reach the city." "Why, pshaw! there's nothing to worry over," said Jim. "The storm won't last forever, and I'm sure if the engines are not fixed by morning, Mr. Ronald will signal for a tow to pull us into the city." "That will be the only thing to do," said the yachtsman. "But the trouble will be remedied before morning, I am sure." At ten o'clock the storm had abated to some extent, though the rain was still beating in sheets against the cabin windows. The wind, however, seemed to have lost its great velocity, and the yacht did not toss as badly. Under these comforting circumstances the girls and Aunt Betty retired to the staterooms of the yacht, where they threw themselves in the bunks thoroughly dressed, resolved to get what rest they could. In the cabin the men smoked and told stories, while Jim sat near, an interested listener. At midnight the boy curled up on a seat built against the side of the cabin and went to sleep. Judge Breckenridge was nodding in a big Morris chair, so Dr. Sterling and Mr. Ronald left them and went to the engine-room, where Sharley and his assistant were still laboring faithfully at the machinery. "Well, we've got it located," said the grimy engineer, smiling good-naturedly. "The trouble is on this end of the propeller shaft. A piece of metal is lodged between the cogs, and we've been unable so far to get it out. It's only a question of time, though. Bill is hammering away with a cold chisel and something is bound to give 'way soon." "Can we run into the city in the storm, Sharley, or will it be better to wait till it clears?" "Well, it's pretty misty out, and hard to see the lights of other boats, but we'll chance it if you say so, sir." "I'll think it over. Let me know when the engine is fixed and we'll decide what is best to do. Come, Sterling; let's go on deck for a breath of air." Donning heavy ulsters, they were soon on the slippery deck of the yacht, the storm beating in their faces. The man in the wheelhouse, encased in heavy oilskins, was nodding in the shelter of his little quarters. He started up as Mr. Ronald and his friend came slipping along the deck. "A bad night, sir, but the storm's going down," he remarked, pleasantly. "The engines will soon be fixed, Donnelly, and if it's let up sufficiently we may try to make the city at once. Otherwise we will wait till daylight." "Yes, sir; all right, sir," and the man bowed as Mr. Ronald and Dr. Sterling passed on. In the meantime, Dorothy and Molly lay in their bunks, talking on various subjects, but mostly of the coming concert. Dorothy, of course, was worried, and was trying to borrow trouble by declaring the storm would keep up all the following day, and that she might be forced to miss the concert altogether--an idea which Molly "pooh-poohed" in vigorous terms. "I'm surprised at you, Dorothy Calvert," she said. "You're not a quitter. Nothing in the world will keep you from being at the theater to-morrow night, and you will play as you have never played before. Difficulties will but serve to spur you on to greater deeds." "You're right, chum," Dorothy replied. "That is a well-deserved rebuke and I thank you for it. Which reminds me that my fears were groundless, for the wind is going down and it does not seem to be raining as hard as it was." "Of course not, you goosey! These storms rarely last more than a few hours. The sun will be shining in the morning, and all you'll see to remind you of to-night will be the rather worn looks of your companions. But what is one night's loss of sleep, anyway? I just know when you were at school you lost many a good night's sleep through some prank. Now, didn't you?" "That would be telling tales out of school," smiled Dorothy. "An evasion means an assent," remarked her chum. "And the next evening you were feeling as well as ever--just as a nice, warm bath and a rub-down will make you forget your troubles of to-night." And Molly was a true prophet. The storm went down rapidly after midnight, until there was only a slight mist falling, and the wind came in fitful little gusts, which lacked the force to do damage even of a slight nature. After one o'clock, with the cheering intelligence that the engines would soon be in working order, called to them through the stateroom door by Dr. Sterling, the girls fell asleep, to be awakened some hours later by the motion of the boat. "Oh, look, Molly!" Dorothy cried, shaking her chum out of a sound sleep. "The yacht is under way." "Didn't I tell you so?" was the rather discomforting reply, as Molly sat up, rubbing her eyes. "First thing we know we'll be back at the hotel." "We'll have to reach the dock first, though." "Thanks for the information," said Molly, as she began to arrange her hair. The sun was streaming in through the port-holes and the water without was as smooth as glass. The yacht was headed toward the city, and moving along at a steady pace, though not at full speed. The girls smoothed out their crumpled dresses, gave several other touches to their attire, and after a vigorous use of powder rags, taken from their hand-satchels, they aroused Aunt Betty and together went into the cabin, thence to the deck. "Good morning!" greeted Judge Breckenridge, who, seated near the rail amidships, was smoking an early morning cigar in the keenest enjoyment. "It is _good_ morning, sure enough!" cried Dorothy, drawing her lungs full of the pure, sweet air. "And I'm so glad. I hope we reach the city soon, for Herr Deichenberg and Mr. Ludlow will be worried to death over my absence." "In half an hour we'll be at the wharf," said Mr. Ronald, who approached at this moment. "I trust you rested well?" This remark was directed principally toward Aunt Betty, who replied: "I didn't hear a sound all night long. The last noise I heard was the chatter of the two young magpies who occupied the berths across from me, but no misfortune, no matter how dire or dreadful, could bridle their tongues, so that was to be expected." "That sounds very much like a libel to me," said Dorothy, laughing. "Well, you're my niece, and I can libel you if I wish," was the spirited response. "But Molly isn't your niece, auntie." "Never mind; she insists on keeping company with you. Under those circumstances she must expect to take home to herself most of the things I say about you." "I'm not worried," said Molly. "I suppose we are all you say we are, and more, Mrs. Calvert." "That's a charitable view to take of it," said Dr. Sterling. The engines were working so well that before they realized it the _Nautilus_ was lying snugly moored to her wharf in the North River. Mr. Ronald's guests bade him good-by and left the boat, after making him promise to be at Dorothy's concert in the evening. At the hotel, early as was the hour, Dorothy found Herr Deichenberg and Mr. Ludlow in conference over her continued absence. "My goodness! My goodness!" cried the music master. "Would you drive us crazy, Miss Dorothy, that you stay avay all night and make us believe you are lost in the storm?" "I did not make you believe anything, Herr Deichenberg. You took that upon yourself. And perhaps I was lost in the storm, sir," replied the girl, then extended her hand to Mr. Ludlow. "I forgive you, Miss Calvert, and trust you have not so impaired your faculties that your work will fall below its usual standard to-night," said the manager. "I have not, I assure you. We were very comfortable in the berths, and put in some good time sleeping between midnight and morning. Molly will tell you that we have no reason for feeling badly." "Indeed, no, and Dorothy will be in perfect trim, Mr. Ludlow." "Your assurance makes my mind perfectly easy," was his reply. "But vhy didn't you let us know?" Herr Deichenberg asked excitedly. "Vhy? Vhy?" "Because the yacht was not equipped with a wireless apparatus, I suppose," Jim Barlow put in, rather testily. "She has done the best she knew how, sir, and that's all anyone can do." "Truly spoken, my boy," replied the Herr, laying a kindly hand on his shoulder. "You must not mind me; I am a little nervous--dat iss all." "The nervousness will pass away now the truant has returned," Aunt Betty assured him. Frau Deichenberg, who approached at that moment, nodded, smiling: "Ah, madame, dat iss true. You must not mind him. He iss like dat vhenever anyt'ing goes wrong. But he means not'ing--not'ing!" She extended her hand. "I am glad to see you safely back." Assuring Mr. Ludlow that she would be on hand in the evening without fail, and promising to see him during the afternoon if he called, Dorothy went up to her room, where a hot bath and a nap of several hours' duration put her in excellent physical trim for the ordeal that night--for an ordeal she knew it was to be--an ordeal that would be the making or the breaking of her career. CHAPTER XV DOROTHY'S TRIUMPH At last the hour was approaching when Dorothy would make her appearance before a metropolitan audience. As evening drew near she felt a nervous sensation, mingled with a faint suspicion of nausea, and wondered at it. Upon the occasion of her appearance in Baltimore not even a tremor of excitement had possessed her; yet, the very thought of appearing in the glare of the footlights in this great New York theater gave her an almost uncontrollable desire to fly away--anywhere--away from the people of this city whose opinions seemed to mean so much to the followers of music and the drama. Arriving at the theater early, just as she had on the occasion of her appearance in her home city, Dorothy again peeped through a small hole in the curtain, to find the great gold-and-green auditorium a perfect blaze of light. To her right, in the stage box, sat Aunt Betty, Molly, the Judge, Frau Deichenberg, Mr. Ronald and Jim Barlow chatting gayly, and awaiting the time when the curtain should rise for Dorothy's opening number. The murmur of many voices reached the girl, as she looked. It was an audience of taste and culture. Mr. Ludlow had seen to that. His affairs were looked upon by music lovers as distinctly out of the ordinary, hence the better class of people attended them--even sought eagerly for seats. By the time Herr Deichenberg appeared on the stage to flash the orchestra a signal for the overture, the house was packed almost to the doors. People were even standing three deep in the back, apparently in the best of humor and seeming not to mind in the least the discomforts attending "standing room only." Dorothy sought her dressing-room, a great lump in her throat, and taking her violin from the case, nervously thumbed the strings. It was so unusual--this feeling of helplessness--the feeling that she was but an unimportant atom in this great sea of people who were waiting for her to appear that they might subject her to scathing criticism. Herr Deichenberg smiled in at the door a moment later. "Und how iss my little lady?" he inquired. "Oh, Herr, I have such a strange sensation. It seems as if my heart is going to stop beating." "Ah, ha! You t'ink so, but it iss not so, Miss Dorothy. De heart has changed its place of residence--dat iss all. It is now lodged in de mouth, vhere it vill stay until you get before de audience und realize dat you vill have to play. Den it vill leave you." "If I could only be sure!" "Vhat I tell you iss true. I have been there, many iss de time. You vill find dat de audience vill be your inspiration." Shortly after, when the orchestra was in the last bars of the overture, the music master hurried Dorothy out of her dressing-room to her place in the wings. The sinking feeling grew more intense. She could not get her mind off the ordeal which was before her. If she had only agreed not to come, she argued with herself, she might have saved her reputation. But now the merciless critics of the metropolis would subject her to comparisons with greater and more famous artists, and she would surely be the loser thereby. Strange she had not thought of that before! She was startled out of her meditation by Herr Deichenberg, who cried: "Ready, now, young lady! Look your prettiest! Valk out as you did before, und forget there iss an audience. Take your time und vait till de orchestra iss t'rough with de introduction." She nodded, her lower lip trembling visibly. Then, with a sudden shake of her head, she forced a smile and stepped out into view of the audience! And as those staid old New Yorkers saw this slim, young girl advancing, violin in hand, toward the footlights, while the great orchestra roared and thundered through the introduction to Rubenstein's "Barcarole," they burst into a round of applause. And Dorothy, surprised at the reception thus accorded her, when she had expected nothing but silence and curious stares, all but stopped in the center of the stage and forgot what she was doing. Then, realizing that the orchestra was rapidly approaching the place where she was to begin playing, she had the presence of mind to bow and smile. And just back of the footlights, with the faces of her auditors but a blurred spot on her vision, the girl put her violin under her chin and gently drew the bow across the strings. As the orchestra played a low accompaniment, there suddenly filled the air a sound of deep melody, which swept down the aisles and filled with melodious sweetness every corner of the big theater. It was a melody such as sets the heart beating--a melody full of the most witchingly sweet low notes. Dorothy swayed back and forth to the rhythm of the music, and the audience listened spellbound. To Aunt Betty and the other attentive auditors it seemed that all the world was music--that, as played by this young girl, it was the greatest and best of all earthly things. As she played on, by, as it seemed to her, some strange miracle, all her fears and tremblings vanished. Herr Deichenberg had been right, and now her only thought was for her work--how best to do it to the satisfaction of those who had honored her with their presence. When it was finished and she had bowed herself off into the first entrance, applause such as she had never heard before, thundered through the building. Out she stepped and bowed, but still the plaudits continued, and finally, walking out, she signified with a nod of her head her willingness to respond with an encore. She played a simple little piece far removed from the great Rubenstein melody, and it went straight to the hearts of the audience, as Herr Deichenberg, keen old musician that he was had intended that it should. From that moment Dorothy Calvert had her audience with her heart and soul. As she swept into the concluding bars of the melody, the audience fairly rose to its feet and applauded. She took seven bows before the curtain was allowed to descend. The first part of the entertainment was over and Dorothy sought her dressing-room to rest, closing and locking the door so that no one might intrude on her privacy. There she lay, eyes half-closed, breathing rather heavily, more from excitement than from actual physical exertion, while the popular tenor whom Mr. Ludlow had engaged to assist in the concert was singing a song from "Lucia." She heard his encore but faintly--enough, however, to recognize one of the solos from a popular comic opera, then someone rapped on her door and bade her be ready for her second turn. Words fail to describe the reception she met as she played Schubert's Sonata, followed by the march from "Lenore," the latter seeming to strike the chord of popular approval in a very forcible manner. She bowed herself off again, after taking ten curtain calls, to give the tenor another chance. Again she rested in her dressing-room, and again ventured forth for the last, and to her most difficult, part of the entertainment. Two of the classics she played, then, upon insistent calls from the audience for more, nodded to the orchestra and struck into her old medley of southern airs. As the plaintive notes of "The Old Folks At Home" echoed and reëchoed through the theater, Dorothy watched the effect on her audience, and saw that many handkerchiefs were used as the sadder strains were played. "Old Black Joe" produced much the same effect, and "Dixie" aroused them to cheers which increased as the girl played "The Star Bangled Banner" and, finally, "Home, Sweet Home." Again and again the curtain descended, only to rise again, as the girl bowed her acknowledgments to the great audience that had received her with such marked expressions of approval. Then, to her dressing-room she went, to find that Aunt Betty and her friends had reached the stage through an entrance back of their box, and were awaiting her. "Oh, auntie, auntie!" was all she could say, as she threw herself into the arms of her aged relative and sobbed through sheer joy. "My dear, it is the triumph of your life. I am indeed proud to call you my own." "And she wasn't one tiny bit scared," said Molly. "Shows you don't know what you're talking about," Dorothy replied, with some spirit. "Herr Deichenberg had all he could do to induce me to leave my dressing-room. Let the announcement sound as absurd as it may, I was literally scared to death." "If you can play like that when you're literally scared to death," said Molly, "I wish someone would scare me." "Here's Mr. Ludlow," said Jim. "Let's hear what he has to say." "Mr. Ludlow is about the happiest man in New York to-night," said the manager, "realizing, as he does, that he has discovered, with the aid of Herr Deichenberg, a young lady who is destined to set the whole country afire with her playing. Miss Calvert, I congratulate you most heartily. It was the finest thing of its kind I have ever heard in my long theatrical experience." Dorothy choked up and could not speak as she took his hand. "Don't try to thank me," he went on, observing her embarrassment. "It is I who should thank you. And now, I know you are anxious to return to your hotel. I shall see you in the morning before you leave for home and discuss with you our future plans." It was not until the early hours of the morning that Dorothy Calvert wooed sleep successfully, and when she did, she dreamed of violins, music masters, stages and scenery--all inextricably mixed. She arose early, however, as they were to catch a train for Baltimore during the forenoon. Jim Barlow came into the room occupied by Dorothy and Aunt Betty as soon as they had dressed, bringing the morning papers. The music critics were almost unanimous in pronouncing the young violinist a player of exceptional merit, and one destined to become a great force in the musical world. Dorothy hastened to show the papers to Aunt Betty and Molly, who, of course, were greatly rejoiced over her success. Mr. Ludlow called as he had promised, and when he took his departure Dorothy had put her signature to a contract, calling for a forty weeks' tour of the United States and Canada, starting the last week in September. And the contract called for a salary of $200 per week and expenses. Those interested in our heroine's welfare may learn as to the outcome in the next volume named "Dorothy's Tour." Dorothy could hardly believe her good fortune; nor could Aunt Betty, whose resources were so low that the only thing in prospect was a mortgage on her beloved Bellvieu. The fact that Aunt Betty was in such sore financial straits became known by accident to Dorothy after they had returned home. But once the girl was familiar with conditions, she showed what a loyal niece she could be by depositing in one of the Baltimore banks the money she had received for her concert, subject to Aunt Betty's order. Then, in company with Aunt Betty, she called upon the lawyers who had the Calvert estate in charge, and by explaining her prospects for the coming season, and exhibiting her contract with Mr. Ludlow, arranged for such funds as she and Aunt Betty might need between then and the end of September. Thus was old Bellvieu saved to those who loved her most. It was a happy summer to Dorothy, though she kept up her work under the direction of Herr Deichenberg, gradually growing to be a more polished artist. As the fall drew near she became very eager, particularly when Mr. Ludlow wrote that he had provided a private car that Aunt Betty might go with her upon her long journey over the continent. So here, with her triumph achieved, and greater triumphs and trials as well before her, we will leave Dorothy prepared to take up her adventurous tour. * * * * * Transcriber's note: Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors; otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's words and intent. 
26878	----	THE REPAIRING & RESTORATION OF VIOLINS. PRINTED BY E. SHORE & CO., 3, GREEN TERRACE, ROSEBERY AVENUE, LONDON, E.C. [Frontispiece: HORACE PETHERICK.] _"THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. XII._ THE REPAIRING & RESTORATION OF VIOLINS. BY HORACE PETHERICK. _Of the Music Jury, International Inventions Exhibition South Kensington, 1885; International Exhibition Edinburgh, 1890; Expert in Law Courts, 1891; Vice-President of the Cremona Society_. ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR. London: THE STRAD OFFICE, 3, GREEN TERRACE, ROSEBERY AVENUE, E.C. D. R. DUNCAN, 186, FLEET STREET, E.C. New York: CHARLES SCRIBNERS' SONS, 153-157, FIFTH AVENUE 1903. CONTENTS. PAGE CHAPTER I.--Introductory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 CHAPTER II.--Slight Accidents--Modern Restorers--"Chattering"-- The Proper Sort of Glue--Its Preparation and Use . . . . 3 CHAPTER III.--Minor Repairs--Cramps and Joints--Violin Cases-- Rattles and Jars--Loose Fingerboards--Atmospheric Temperature--Old-Fashioned Methods of Repairing--Modern Ways--A Loose Nut . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 CHAPTER IV.--Injuries to the Head or Scroll--Insertion of Fresh Wood--Colouring of White Wood--Separation of Head from Peg-box and Re-joining--Stopping Material for Small Holes or Fractures--The Peg-box Cracked by Pressure . . . . . . 28 CHAPTER V.--Fracture of Peg-box and Shell--Chips from this Part--Filling up of Same--Restoration to Original Form, after Parts have been Lost--Worn Peg-holes, Re-filling or Boring Same . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46 CHAPTER VI.--Loosening of Junction of Graft with Peg-box, and Refixing Same--Grafting, Different Methods of Performing this--Lengthening the Neck--Old and Modern Method--Renewal of Same--Inclination of Neck and Fingerboard with Regard to the Bridge--Height of Latter, and Reason for It . . . 58 CHAPTER VII.--Finishing the Fingerboard--Fixing the Nut--Size and Position of Grooves for the Strings--Filing Down the Graft--Smoothing, Colouring, and Varnishing Same . . . . 84 CHAPTER VIII.--Injuries that can be Repaired from the Outside-- Insertion of Fresh Wood in Fracture of the Ribs--The Effects of Climate on the Glue in Violins . . . . . . . . 92 CHAPTER IX.--The Glue Used by the Early Italian Makers-- Insertion of Pieces of Wood for Repairing Lost Parts-- Replacing Lost Rib and Repairing Interior without Opening when Possible--Securing Loose Lower Rib to End Block-- Different Methods--Treatment of Worm-holes--Fixing on Graft on Neck . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100 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 . . . . . . . . . 114 CHAPTER XI.--Getting Parts Together that apparently do not Fit--The use of Benzine or Turpentine--Treatment of Warped or Twisted Lower Tables . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 CHAPTER XII.--Removal of Old Superfluous Glue by Damping-- Replacing Old End Blocks by New Ones--Temporary Beams and Joists Inside for Keeping Ribs, etc., in Position while Freshly Glued . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135 CHAPTER XIII.--Re-opening the Back to Correct the Badly Repaired Joint--A Few Words on Studs--Filling Up Spaces left by Lost Splinters--Matching Wood for Large Cracks, etc. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 CHAPTER XIV.--Repairing Lost Portions--Margins of Sound Holes-- Matching the Grain--Fixing and Finishing Off--Replacing with Fresh Wood Large Portions of Upper Table--Lost Parts of Purfling--Restoring It with Old Stuff . . . . . . . . 155 CHAPTER XV.--Repairs to Purfling (continued)--Filling up an Opening Extending to the Whole Length of the Violin-- Fitting the Core--Fixing it in Position and Retaining it There--Finishing the Surface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 CHAPTER XVI.--Repairing Undertaken by People in Business not connected with that of Bowed Instruments--Removal of a Fixed Sound Post--Fitting a Fresh Part of Worm-Eaten Rib-- Bringing Together the Loosened Joint of the Back Without Opening the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172 CHAPTER XVII.--Insertion of Studs along the Joint Inside without Opening the Violin--Lining or Veneering a Thin Back . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 180 CHAPTER XVIII.--The Bar in Olden Times--The Modern One--The Operation of Fitting and Fixing the Bar--Closing and Completion of the Repairs--Varnishing of the Repaired Parts having Fresh Wood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186 PREFACE. An ancient writer once asserted that "of making many books there is no end"; had the violin been invented and used as far back as his day he might have added, "and of repairs to violins," inasmuch as the number, nature, and variety of the damages that constantly occur and find their way into the presence of the repairer, are such as could not be counted and seemingly are endless. The readers of the following pages will therefore not expect to find every possible ailment to which the violin is liable, mentioned and its appropriate remedy marked out. If the more minute kinds of injuries are endless, they may yet be generalised under a limited number of headings, or in groups. It is with the hope that a sufficient number has been treated of, and the way of meeting difficulties pointed out plainly enough to enable the intending practitioner to follow on in the same lines, that this work is placed before the public. All the repairings referred to, have, with the accompanying annoyances and pleasures, been gone through by myself, and therefore the present little work may be taken as the result of personal experience and it is hoped may be acceptable to the readers. H. PETHERICK. _July, 1903_. The Repairing and Restoration of Violins. CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTORY. The art of the old liutaro of Italy may be said to have become during the last two or three centuries, identified with the art of constructing such musical instruments as are played with the bow. As was the case with other and kindred arts, that of violin making had its rise in one of the old cities of Italy, where from small beginnings it gradually spread to other places and over the borders, until there are very few places of importance where it was not practised with some degree of success, commercially if not artistically and acoustically considered. During the early period of the art, repairing was of a rough and ready kind, chiefly in connection with damages sustained under ordinary usage and accident; while extensive and costly renovating, such as is so frequently undertaken at the present day, must have been of rare occurrence, for the reason that it was then quite possible to get equal, sometimes better, quality in quite new instruments which were being sent forth every day by the resident makers. With the onward march of time this has been changed; the art of the Italian liutaro having reached its climax some century and a half back, the masterpieces executed during that time are gradually diminishing in number and cannot be replaced by instruments having a sufficiently high degree of excellence; naturally enough the skill of the repairer has been more and more in requisition, so much so, that many who have shown exceptional ability for this kind of work have achieved a reputation for it alone, among the large circle of dealers in the principal cities of Europe. The necessities of the time have thus brought into prominence a modification of the art of the old Italian liutaro, in which there has to be displayed much more mechanical ingenuity if with very little or no originality; the high class of artisan has become strongly in evidence, while the artist has disappeared. It was in the consideration of these facts that the idea was first suggested that a work treating of the general methods adopted by professional restorers for important work, coupled with helpful hints in the management of minor injuries, would be interesting and acceptable to amateur as well as professional repairers, besides the numerous readers of THE STRAD, in the pages of which the following chapters were first issued. In sending out the matter in book form, some alterations and additions have been, as usual, found advisable for completeness. All readers readily admit the impossibility of touching upon one half of the various accidents and ailments to which a violin is liable during its usually long life; the most likely ones have therefore been taken, and it is hoped that the suggested treatment of these cases may enable the repairer to become sufficiently adept for undertaking such others, serious, or slight, as may not have been here referred to. Further, the author is hopeful that those readers who may feel indisposed themselves to put into practice the various hints, instruction, or advice, will be enabled by knowing how good repairing is carried out, to select the proper kind of person into whose hands they can safely intrust their cherished instruments. CHAPTER II. SLIGHT ACCIDENTS--MODERN RESTORERS--"CHATTERING"--THE PROPER SORT OF GLUE--ITS PREPARATION AND USE. Under the above title (dry and unpalatable as the subject may seem at first sight to many) it is proposed to bring before the reader some deductions from observations in general, and particulars in detail that may be interesting as to the past, and suggestive as to the future. In the first place, the simple art of repairing a violin--and as for that, anything that has been fractured by accident or intent--will be in the minds of many associated with the presence of some strong glue or adhesive material, the right pieces to be attached, neatly or not, as the skill or experience of the repairer may be sufficient or available. The nose or limb of a marble statue knocked off and lying in close proximity to the main body may be thought to give little or no trouble further than the collection of the fragments, the ascertaining of their original relationship, the spreading of a sufficient amount of strong cement over the raw surface and then pressing accurately into position; easy work to a person endowed with average powers of mechanical adaptation, under circumstances where the materials being of an unyielding nature retain their form for any length of time. But if any parts are lost different faculties and powers educated for the work are requisite and brought to bear on the subject. The additions, besides the estimated proportions and form, must necessarily be composed of material differing in age, perhaps in quality, even when of the same supposed class as the original, and make further demands on the trained eye, both for discrimination of material and appropriateness for the work in hand. There will be lastly, but not least, the art of imitating old work, the consideration how far to go and when to stop in the dressing up of new bodies in an old guise so as to produce harmony of effect generally, and where possible in minute detail. Thus far concerning the repair or restoration of objects of art made from rigid materials, including hard wood carving. Much ability, energy and patience have been expended on the reparation of ancient art work in which materials of various degrees of hardness and texture have been employed, and which require the attention of a restorer of extended knowledge and mechanical dexterity. There is in connection with all of this a kind of law keeping pace with the necessities of the hour. If the works of art of a perishable nature become recognised as more and more valuable during the onward march of time, they receive proportional attention from upper-class or highly skilled workmen. A costly work of art in need of repair or restoration is placed in the hands of an artificer whose reputation warrants the confidence of the owner. The works of art, however, with which our subject is connected, differ in important particulars from those for which gratification of the senses is to be favoured solely through the medium of the eye; they not only frequently demand the exercise of mechanical ingenuity of no mean order for purposes of restoration in regard to general appearance, but further and additionally, the no less important details concerned in a renewal, so far as may be possible, of their powers for the exhibition of acoustical properties such as were implanted in them by their original constructors. In the instance of a re-uniting of separated pieces, the insertion of fresh material to fill up spaces that must not be left open, strengthening, or even renewal of such parts as may have become worn away or--as is too often met with--"honey-combed" from the inroads of those vandals of all time known as "the worm," all the supporting, rebuilding of the interior and re-decoration of the exterior must be taken chiefly as means to an end, that of the resumption of its rightful position among friends or rivals in the same line. This restitution becomes of increasing importance and necessity every day, a condition arising from the verdict emphatically given by his majesty the public that there are not any instruments of the violin family ready to take the place--that is, worthily--of those made by the principal masters of Italy during the two hundred odd years before the commencement of the nineteenth century, and also that there does not seem to be much probability of others arising at least for a few generations to come. No wonder then that the most energetic searching has been going on for a long time, not only in Italy but over the whole of Europe, with the hope that in some out of the way court or alley there may yet be reposing in obscurity some long forgotten, unrecognised work by an old master of the art of violin making. Should one be unearthed, if but a wreck of its former greatness or even a portion, this is not refused but eagerly grasped and placed--not yet in open daylight before the gaze of the world, but in the hands of a specialist in re-vivifying these dry bones of a bygone age, re-habilitating them--perhaps having by him or given him other portions of a similar maker, or it may be--it has sometimes occurred--the actual missing parts. The specialist in the repairing and restoring art is now not of the same class as in olden times. When the Amatis, Stradivaris, Guarneris and the like were being turned out one after another, there was not so much necessity for preserving all the pieces or splinters of precious pine that had been separated by the fracture of the upper table from any cause, there was a better remedy at hand, the nearest maker would naturally be sought whose reputation was possibly more than local and whose self confidence prompted him to make a fresh table rather than devote time and labour for which adequate compensation could not be hoped for. As a result, we frequently find old violins and their kindred turning up with fronts and backs which, although fitting well as regards size and outline, have been made by a distinctly different workman, in some instances equal or even superior to the originator. At the present day, however, this kind of restoration is much more rarely attempted and is not resorted to unless the damage is very extensive or vital portions have been irrecoverably lost. The modern maker has no longer within reach, pine with requisite acoustical properties, of which the old Italian masters seem to have had so large a store, or if not, the knowledge where to obtain it. As a consequence there has, in response to the pressure of necessity, arisen a class of workmen some of whose dexterous conversion of a mere bundle of splinters of an old master into the semblance of its former grandeur of aspect would have astonished the original designers. These modern restorers are not to be confounded with the minute imitators or forgers, than whom they are much more clever, hard-working and honest withal. The art of repairing and restoring has now become so distinct from that of making, that many in the foremost ranks in the increasing large army of restorers may never have made a violin throughout. The faculties, skill and experience directed on the restoration of a violin "on the sick list," differs from those exercised by the first constructor whose mechanical dexterity is an aid or secondary to other qualifications: whereas it is paramount in importance in the constitution of a first class repairer. The construction of a violin from beginning to end may be said to be an art based on certain fixed principles, not all of them known, however. When these are, as far as possible, acted upon by a workman of sufficient intelligence and training, the progress of the work may be considered as being in a fairly straight and open course. Not so with the restoration of it after fracture or loss of parts great or small, several different courses may be open as to treatment and this will be as the temperament of the restorer will suggest or the exigencies of the moment may demand. Temporary alleviation of symptoms--how to make the thing go somehow--when there is no fiddle physician within beck or call, is a problem frequently arising and very annoying, necessity then being the mother of invention, often of a most curious sort, as most professional repairers who have had the re-consideration of the matter will have impressed on their memories. Among the most frequent of simple ailments the fiddle tribe is subject to, is that known as "chattering" or jarring, caused mostly by some parts having become dis-united, perhaps through damp or accident sometimes of a most trifling nature, and which henceforth, unless remedies are at once applied, make themselves evident in this way, accompanying every note that happens to be in unison with themselves, and lending discord instead of harmony, expressing urgently their thirst and desire for a small drink from the glue pot. Not unfrequently the exact spot where the jarring or chattering takes place is not easy to find by mere examination of the exterior, especially if the separation is fresh and at a part where very little adhesion has taken place at any time, or possibly the very slight portion of glue originally placed at the time of construction, has, with the progress of time, gradually dried away. Should this have occurred at the junction of the upper or lower tables (most frequently the first), the sides, or ribs, the exact spot must be found by gently tapping all round carefully, holding the instrument meanwhile firmly at parts that are least likely to have become disconnected or that are known to be perfectly sound. The tapping or sounding can be done in the way usual with dealers and repairers, that is, by the knuckle joints of the hand rapping round the instrument, but this is sometimes deceptive, the tendons over the bones of the hand interfering and occasionally causing a double sound, and so defeating the efforts at discovery. A more delicate and therefore better means of testing is by the use of a felted hammer of the kind and size acting on the bass string of a grand pianoforte; this will be found very handy. Should the rapping or sounding all round the border not reveal any weak spot, we may be sure the seat of the complaint is to be sought for elsewhere; possibly there is looseness in the interior and therefore something requiring deeper consideration. We will for the present assume that there has been no uncertainty in locating the weakness, and that it is at the part before referred to as the most frequent in showing signs of disorder--the upper table losing its grip on the ribs. This is one of the many common ailments that are teazing to the violin during its troublous career; a slight accidental tap, or hastily putting the instrument to rest in a too closely fitting case being often sufficient. Sometimes, on the reverse, it is from being in too large a one, getting well shaken while being taken home after some orchestral rehearsal; the joy of having mastered Mozart or battered Beethoven for an evening is turned in the morning to grief and vexation, when in response to the gentle persuasions of the bow there are but chatters and jarrings. Under such circumstances the treatment administered by the hands of non-practical or inexperienced people is akin, more often than not, to that popularly supposed to be effectual in suppressing slight functional disorders of the human system; namely, a prompt and appreciable dose of medicine for the one, a good stuffing of thick dark glue for the other. In both cases it may well be said that not unfrequently "the remedy is worse than the disease." Glue is a good thing in its way and when properly applied, but not so if overdone, even if the kind is the best obtainable. A few remarks may here be offered as to the qualities that should be present in good glue, especially with regard to violin repairing. Among the makers of it, the glue which will absorb the largest quantity of water ranks as the best. It will, after proper application, resist best the action of moisture in the atmosphere, or in fact take longer time before releasing the two surfaces it may have been holding in contact. There is not much difficulty in getting glue very satisfactory in most respects--as good animals die now-a-days as ever got into the gluepots of the old masters--but it must be selected. That kind used extensively in the German manufactories is said to be a fish glue, remarkably hard, very light in colour and almost opaque. This is not to be recommended for violin repairs; it holds the parts together with such tenacity that fresh fractures are likely to be caused in undoing a portion, a process often very necessary; professional repairers will tell you "it tears the wood too much." The glues mostly in favour among upper class repairers are those known as Russian, Cologne and Isinglass, all good; they are light in colour, very firm, not too brittle, and transparent. There are other varieties to be had of excellent quality and which conform to the conditions required. Thick cakes of a dark brown colour with an unpleasant odour should be avoided; they are too easily affected by the atmosphere, turn bad in the gluepot under very little provocation from damp warm winds, and spoil the look of good and refined workmanship. There are many different kinds of glue sold under various titles, some termed "liquid glue," others cement, apparently for saving the very insignificant time and trouble in warming up the orthodox solution; but none appear satisfactory in general and many of them are even detestable. There are some adhesive materials used in India where warmth and damp have their full play and make short work of an old master's joints, but these cements of the Eastern Hemisphere are likewise unsuitable for the kind of work under consideration, as when once dried, being unaffected by damp to any extreme, they are of course difficult to remove when further repairs have become necessary. One of the special advantages of glue to the repairer is its yielding to the direct application of moisture, so that in future repairings the old stuff can be washed completely out and fresh glue used over clean work. Let all amateur repairers therefore, abstain from seeking after a vain thing of the nature of glue impervious to moisture. One word more, as preachers say, and that is as to the preparation or melting of the glue--simplest of processes--some pieces of selected glue put into a small glazed gallipot with two-thirds of clean water and left to soak during the night will only require warming in the morning by placing the pot in a larger one and surrounding it with hot water. The quantity of glue being varied according to requirement is far preferable to the old-fashioned iron glue-pot which darkens the glue and is in other ways objectionable. If the injury or want of adhesion extends only to a trifling distance round the edge and has happened at a time when good glue and proper appliances are not to hand, the routine pursued must still be the same as if they were: first by obtaining a well-worn table knife, the thinner the better (but if the household knives happen to be new and strong you may call on some artist friend, borrow his palette knife, clean it, have ready some clear water, a cushion or a substitute, and some rather thick gum). If time will allow, the strings should be taken off the violin, and then placing it face downwards on the cushion, the knife having been dipped in the water, can be inserted gently at the part requiring attention. (Diagram 1.) [Illustration: DIAGRAM 1.] You will soon tell by the sound in moving the knife about whether the separation has been recent or of long standing, if the latter, the slipping of the knife will cause a slight grating sound and when drawn out will show signs of dirt. The knife must be rinsed and re-inserted a sufficient number of times until all the evidence of dirt has disappeared, the knife coming away clean and not gritty. Care should be taken meanwhile to keep the violin on the tilt so that the water introduced on the surface of the knife does not run inside but outward to the edge; the parts should also each time be wiped by a clean absorbent piece of cotton or linen. The knife can then be charged with gum instead of water and inserted as before, the process being finished by the wiping. But now the question will arise how about the closing up and pressing together of the parts. For this, assuming that the part to be rejoined is not of great extent, the chin-rest--almost every player now uses one--can be applied to the part and fixed in the usual way. If there is not one to be had, some pieces of ordinary deal, the softer the better--fire wood will do--cut into shape as depicted (Diagram 2) can be fitted, but very loosely to allow of thin wedges being used to tighten the grip (Diagram 3). They must be very gently pushed in, or the border of the violin will be damaged. Some paper placed between the wedge and the border will help in preserving the latter from injury or marks. The above suggestions are only intended to be applicable when the violinist may be out of reach of any professional or competent repairer. Gum arabic or dextrine are not comparable with good glue for repairs, although with care and attention to the details enumerated here I have known it answer when in pressing haste, and even for a permanency. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 2.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 3.] CHAPTER III. MINOR REPAIRS--CRAMPS AND JOINTS--VIOLIN CASES--RATTLES AND JARS--LOOSE FINGERBOARDS--ATMOSPHERIC TEMPERATURE--OLD-FASHIONED METHODS OF REPAIRING--MODERN WAYS--A LOOSE NUT. The professional repairer is of course always provided with the well known wooden screw cramps as used in all countries for centuries, but if "up to date" men, they will have affixed the modern covering of cork or leather at the parts coming into contact with the instrument. No end of damage has been done at all times by neglect of this simple precaution. Many gems from the old masters that would otherwise have been matchless, are disfigured by an array of semi-circular dents or bruises near the border. This is particularly noticeable when the arching springs rather abruptly from a narrow channel and near the purfling, or the rise commences from the border without channelling. Here is shown the wisdom of the earlier Italian masters when introducing the channelled model, the hollowing being a preservation against damage by the impetuous repairer. Many otherwise excellent workers are heavy handed, pressing all parts together very tightly but not more securely. Good joints, cleanly and accurately cut, the surfaces kept clean and not overloaded with good glue, are the best for lasting, and of course for appearance. Before leaving that part of our subject which is connected with damages to the violin resulting from want of precaution or thoughtlessness, it may be as well to refer to a frequent cause of disaster, often well nigh ruin, by the use of badly fitting and badly constructed cases. Innumerable as have been the varieties of style, shape and arrangement of violin cases, there is still an opportunity for a new, good and useful one that shall combine all or most of the requirements as regards utility, portability, preservativeness and nice appearance. Those in use for travelling with during the last century and the early part of this, had the disadvantage of heaviness, besides their rounded forms which prevented their being placed with a flat side downwards on a shelf or convenient horizontal surface without some unsteady rolling; also being often studded with brass nails like a coffin, a very grave objection (diagram 4). The leather cases which require the instrument to be placed in sideways have the advantage of giving good protection against rain, but there is insufficient defence against accidental violence; they are, further, more expensive than the foreign boxes made of poplar wood, which are light and of sufficient strength when carefully made. There was one good thing about the ancient cases, however, the violin being inserted at the large end, the performer knew at once whether the case was sufficiently capacious for the instrument. Not so with those in common use at the present time, opening as a box. To these may be laid the charge of causing an immense amount of irreparable injury to numbers of violins of any standard of excellence or costliness. This in the way mostly of depressions--"wells" as they are termed by repairers--where the feet of the bridge rest. These are caused by the lid of the case coming down on to the hard wood of the bridge and pressing its feet like dies, into the comparatively softer pine (diagram 5). It is a disfigurement to the violin and is sometimes in a bungling manner altered by inlaying--badly in most instances--square pieces of wood to bring the surface level. This kind of damage to the violin has been attributed to the prolonged pressure on the upper table by the strings being stretched up to modern pitch, but this is a mistake, no strings at all playable would press sufficiently hard and directly downwards to produce this result. The double-cases in use are worse than the single, as they are necessarily stronger and heavier. Both present the same difficulties in estimating whether the violin with its bridge is too high for the roof inside when the lid is closed. A good way of testing it is by rubbing a little soft white chalk over the top of the bridge and then gently shutting the lid down, which also should show no indisposition to do so; if on lifting the lid any of the white chalk is seen to have changed places and got on to the lining of the lid, put aside at once and for ever the condemned case as being an unfit receptacle for your cherished Cremona. Further, if the fit is at all tight, do not use pressure but get another case, your violin would be a very bad one indeed for your sympathies to fall in with a horrible suggestion once made by the maker of a too closely fitting case for his friend's instrument, that he should be allowed to take a shaving or two off the violin, it would then go in nicely. As some excuse for this maker he was not an amateur in this line, but a professional undertaker. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 4.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 5.] We may now shift our ground and notice another source of the complaint--rattles, jars, chatters, or grunts, which ever may appear the most appropriate title for another variety of annoyance to the performer. Having found out with our felt-headed hammer, or if that is not easily obtainable, a slender stick may be covered at the end with almost any soft material enclosed within a piece of chamois or soft leather, and tied so as to form a knob like a small drumstick. Having tested the violin with it in the manner before referred to, and there being no bad reports from the body of the instrument, the hurt, seat of injury, or lesion, may be in the neck, fingerboard, or even the scroll, any part being liable to give out its undesirable note, or interfere with the proper emission of musical tone from the strings. There is no portion of the violin that will not under certain provocations join too willingly in the production of unwelcome sounds if the exciting conditions are present--those of checked vibration, or vibration that should be checked. An unsuspected cause may be discovered by the tapping test to be lurking unseen, and often unfelt, till one note being struck in unison or sympathy with the affected spot, may cause it to speak in a decided manner. This is at the part where the fingerboard parts from the neck over the instrument towards the bridge--the rather thin glue, as it should be--may, through damp or other causes, have lost its hold for but a short distance, and not be evident while the fingers are pressing the strings over the part; but when notes are struck nearer towards the nut, the pressure is relieved and the fingerboard free to take its own part. This, although a trifle in itself, requires for its cure proper attention with suitable appliances. After the removal of the strings, the first suggestion naturally occurring will be to insert, with the blade of a knife, some glue and leave it to dry. This is more likely than not to make matters worse, as it should always be borne in mind that glued surfaces always require pressing together, however well they may fit. Glue contracts as it dries, and in the process apparently disperses and clings to any other bodies rather than to itself. To put this in another way, if air is allowed to insinuate itself between the two surfaces which it is desirable to bring into closest conjunction, the contraction, particularly if good, while in progress, will cause a separation in the central mass of the glue, while the two surfaces will be left as before, independent of each other, but more clogged. Pressure must therefore be invariably brought to bear behind the opposing parts, so as to drive out the air from between and prevent its re-admission--the necessity of an exact correspondence of the parts will be obvious--at the same time the glue is to some degree forced into the pores of the surfaces, and when the moisture has dispersed among the myriads of cells composing the structural growth of the wood and finally evaporates from the external ones, the glue, having hardened, will hold the parts together with a tenacity that can only be overcome by prolonged application of moisture or actual destruction of the parts. There is one very important consideration in connexion with glueing operations that must not at any time be lost sight of--that of atmospheric temperature. Much trouble may be brought about by inattention to this help or obstruction, for it will act both ways according to circumstances. In the glueing of important parts in the construction of pianofortes, the operators are careful to have the temperature of the surrounding atmosphere sufficiently elevated, as well as heating those portions of the structure which are to be accurately and lastingly joined, and particularly where hard woods and smooth surfaces are brought together. The violin repairer must strictly follow the same rule. The degree Fahrenheit at which glueing operations are best conducted may be roughly estimated as nearly seventy. The reason for this is that the nature of good glue is to coagulate or "set" rapidly in a cool atmosphere and in this state--not perceptible at once to the eye--it will resist a considerable amount of pressure, the surfaces that should exactly cohere, slipping aside and the whole work having to be done over again, perhaps with fresh damage. To return now to our loose fingerboard, an old fashioned and very clumsy, inefficient way of fastening it after glueing, was to tie some string round it, which of course getting much glue upon it during progress had, when dry, to be torn or washed off. The modern, simplest and best way is to have ready a soft wood mould with a square or flat back for the under or circular part of the neck, and a similar but flatter one to fit above on the fingerboard. These can be easily adjusted, and the requisite pressure obtained by several screw cramps along its extent (diagrams 6 and 7). It is not very often that the nut or small block over which the strings pass on to the pegs gets loose, if it does, it is the result of bad fitting and careless glueing. If it should happen to come away, wash it, and when dry see that the under part to be stuck to the fingerboard and the neck is quite square and level; warm it and apply some strong glue to the two surfaces, and also to the parts with which it is to come into contact, you can then place it in position; press down and rub backwards and forwards once or twice, then leave in the exact position required; if clean, accurately fitted and warmed, it will not require any further pressing or clamping. If this part should have been knocked off and lost, then a new one must be made. For this purpose the hardest piece of ebony you can obtain is the best; sometimes a nut of ivory or bone is used, but it has a staring effect, although if properly done as above described, it holds well and wears slowly. Some of the hard dark woods, cocoa wood and lignum vitæ, or dark horn are adapted for this purpose. Rosewood is not so well suited, as the ruts or grooves are soon made deep by the friction of the strings in being wound up, and renewal is found obligatory sooner than with the other. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 6.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 7.] Having selected a suitable piece of wood it must be cut or planed square and equal in thickness. It should be as nearly the right length as possible before being placed permanently in position, the ends being very tough in cutting. If by miscalculation they are found to project over the width of the fingerboard, they should be--when the glue is quite dry--cut through with a small bow saw close up, a gentle, careful filing will reduce them down level with the side of the fingerboard; the surface should run easily with that of the peg box, which is not always of the same width as the other, the arching can then be proceeded with, a chisel being first used, then a rather close grained file for further levelling and the finishing off with the finest glass-paper or emery cloth, having a drop or two of oil in it; this will give a smooth, dull polish agreeable to the eye. The grooves in which the strings will have to rest must be marked out or pricked to measurement so that the spaces may appear regular when the violin is strung up. The distance apart being occasionally done to the caprice of the player, measurement should be kept of this matter of detail from some well regulated instrument as a standard to go by. When the exact spots for the grooves are marked or pricked, a very small, round or "rat-tailed" file may be used to work the wood down at the spot, care being taken that the file is constantly held in an exact line with the direction of the fingerboard, otherwise when strung up the appearance at the part will be that of distortion and the string will even be checked in its freedom in passing through the grooves, each of which should be made to receive the string not too tightly nor too loose. Of course the width of each groove must be in agreement with the thickness of the string, the widest being the D, the G a little less, the A less still and the E least of all; the E should be a trifle closer to the fingerboard than the D or G, the last, having the widest swing during play, should be raised further off the board than the others. The arching of that side of the nut may also be left a little higher. The nut should also be made to slant down towards the peg box (diagram 8), the grooves being of a regular depth on this and not deeper at the top (diagram 9). When all is ready for the stringing up, a soft lead pencil may be used for blackleading the grooves, they are otherwise liable to arrest the progress of the string towards the pegs when tuning up and suddenly letting them go with a click, making the tuning uncertain and difficult; if the wood is rather obstinate--it is not always alike--a touch of beeswax of the size of a pin's head where the lead is placed will be an effectual cure. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 8.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 9.] We may now leave this as finished, going to the other end of the violin where another nut is used for supporting the tail-string as it comes over to the end peg. This part is frequently done in a slovenly way, even by some repairers of good repute; there is no reason why it should not be as neatly done in all respects as any other part. It may be that the supposition is uppermost in the mind of the repairer that, like the nut at the fingerboard, the pressure of the strings will retain it in position. This is a mistake, there is a great pull forward, especially if the wood is hard and dry. The material should be selected for its solidity and hardness like that for the other nut. In olden times, say those of the early Italians, this part, owing to the small amount of strain in consequence of low pitch, low bridge and short neck, seems to have been treated with almost indifference, a very slight piece of ebony, cherry, pear, or other variety of hard wood found in Italy, sufficing for the purpose (diagram 10). It was left level with the surrounding soft wood, or nearly so; there was no occasion for raising it at the time, as the tail-string projected from the underneath of the tailpiece instead of that almost universally now known as the secret tie (diagrams 11 and 12). This latter necessitates the use of a higher and more substantial nut, otherwise the tailpiece would be close down to, if not touching, the table, causing a rattling. Further, in accordance with mechanical law, the strain or pull forward increases with the height of the nut. It is therefore obvious, that unless well fitted and held strongly, the nut will be liable to be wrenched forward out of position. This is more frequent than would be suspected, and is sometimes a secret source of damage or bad influence leading to disaster in other parts of the instrument. The same observations concerning the preliminaries apply to the fixing of this as to the other nut. The modern arrangement of the part leaves but little to be improved upon. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 10. OLDEST FORM OF NUT.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 11.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 12.] The length and thickness of the nut required having been determined upon, we will suppose ourselves in the presence of an old worthy from Cremona requiring a fresh attachment, the wood selected--Mauritius ebony for preference--and the measurement as follows, 5/16 in length and thickness according to the width of the border, as the nut looks best when the inner edge runs in a continuous line with that of the purfling (diagram 13). In highly finished work and when the end of the violin has a perceptible curve instead of being nearly straight, the nut should be made to follow the course of the purfling, this will require some care in the cutting and finishing of it. For this a piece of almost any veneer cut to the exact flow or drawing of the line may be used as a guide or template. The block from which the nut is to be made having been cut quite level, the line can be traced with a fine pointed pencil, or better, a fine pointed knife, and then shaped with a sharp chisel. The block or nut can now be laid on the border, care being taken that the tail pin comes immediately in a central position in relation to it, and then with the sharp pointed knife a finely cut line can be traced all round. The space now marked may be cleared away down to the top of the end block with a clean, vertical wall on three sides formed by the pine. If carefully done, the nut, at present only a solid, squared block, will fit exactly, if too tight, a little shaving off here and there of the pine will correct it. The nut, supposed to be an exact fit, may be warmed and some fairly strong glue applied (diagram 14). The raw surfaces of the pine and the exposed end block are of course very absorbent and require an extra feed or two in order that the final glueing of the nut and place of reception may have a good holding. The nut, now squeezed into position, will not require the clamp, but if time is no desideratum an application of that useful tightener will ensure a firm hold, and moreover the superfluous glue is forced out. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 13.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 14.] When the glue has had time to thoroughly dry and harden, the clamp may be released, and a part at each end of the nut marked off for levelling down to the surrounding forces by filing and glass-papering. The manner and care with which this is done declares the excellence and characteristics of the workman or firm by whom he is employed; almost every repairer or house of reputation having their individualisms in this respect, as also in that of the fingerboard nut (diagram 15). A line having been ruled with precision along the upper central part with the pencil or knife as before, a small gouge can be run along a hollow which will face the bridge. To give this the best kind of finish a piece of pine or soft poplar, such as is used for champagne wine cases, you may look out for one about Christmas time, cut it to the shape of the part to be finished thus (diagram 16), and with a piece of fine glasspaper, slightly oiled, a few rubs backwards and forwards will be necessary. The top of the back part can now be shaved gently down by a small metal plane, a little filing will give the evenness and rotundity required. The same treatment will be necessary for the under part, which in good work is a continuation of the line of the edging of the upper table. A section of the nut in its finished state will be as in diagram 17. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 15.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 16.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 17.] The whole of the surfaces may now be finished with the finest emery cloth and oil. This latter may be linseed, nut, poppy or castor oil with turpentine, but do not use sweet or olive oil, it never dries, but lurks about in the pores of the wood and turns rancid. Before leaving this part of the instrument, it may be as well to take a glance at the peg itself and its insertion at the centre underneath the nut. This is in no respect an unimportant detail to be seen to in the fitting up and regulation of a violin. In olden times the peg was small, not half the size of those inserted in new violins of the present day. The increase in the size seems to have been gradual and to compensate for the hard wood of the peg pressing against the inner, softer substance of the end block with the thin slice of maple used for the ribs, both being insufficient to withstand the strain of the tail-string. Consequently the peg is pulled upwards, sometimes considerably out of position. This is especially likely to occur if the hole has been bored too large or the peg is too thin or short. The accurate fitting of these should have strict attention. Some modern repairers, when they find that there are indications of a softer piece of pine than usual having been used, enlarge the hole with a tool specially made for the purpose, having two cutting edges, or with a number of grooves having sharp ridges, others a rat-tailed file. The latter is perhaps the best, as being less likely to split the fibres of the soft pine. The tool is inserted, not directly in a line pointing exactly midway between the upper and lower tables, but slightly upwards or contrary to the tendency of the peg to accommodate itself to the strain. When the parts under strain have settled down, the peg is seen to be as near as possible horizontal with the length of the violin. The best way, undoubtedly, is to make the peg an accurate but not too tight fit, it should be sufficiently long to go right through the block. In cases where the hole has been enlarged, badly directed or even made ragged by a bad tool, it should be a stopped up very carefully with a plug, neatly glued in, and a fresh hole bored. Sometimes this has proved necessary from the carelessness of the original maker. The old masters were not always exact with their mechanical fittings in connection with the violin. The moderns, for obvious reasons, have paid much attention to them. I remember coming across an Italian violin that had changed hands frequently for the asserted reason of insufficient tone. The maker having a renown for considerable power, it appeared to me that the tone was possibly there, but that from some undiscovered cause it was not properly emitted. On examination I found that the maker had joined the ribs, not at the central part as usual, but too much to the left, perhaps a pupil or assistant had bored the hole at the junction. There were besides, some tinkerings by modern regulators endeavouring to counteract the uneven strain over the instrument. The right spot, or it may be called the axis of the instrument, having been found, the peghole was neatly and permanently plugged, and a fresh one bored, which allowed the strain to be better distributed. The result was satisfactory and delightful; the tone of much power and purity had free play in manifesting itself, and the violin was enabled to take its rightful position among its brethren. A few words as to the right spot for the peghole. This was treated by many of the old Italian liutaros as a matter for mere guess work apparently, when there was no join in the upper table, nor in the lower one, sometimes the lower rib being continuous. The best spot, and therefore the right one, may be fixed upon by finding the centre between the two inner edges of the purfling on the upper table at the lower part, the same between that of the upper, and drawing a faint line through the points with a piece of soft white chalk cut to a point, and guided by a flexible rule or straight edge down to the nut. If this line does not touch at the centre of the nut, then the latter is out of place, and it should be rectified. The line should pass through the centre of the nut, and immediately underneath this and midway between the edges of the upper and lower table will be the spot for the centre of the peghole. The line thus made will not always be found to agree with the centre joint of the pine; many of the old Italian makers may have not, from lack of wood of the right sort and in equal widths, been able to do otherwise. At times it may have been carelessness. Some of their roughly made violins have the joint line over a quarter of an inch from the centre, occasionally it will be not only wider on one side than the other, but the thread or grain will diverge instead of running parallel with the centre line. The judiciousness of careful measurement for the centre, instead of relying on the joint line, will therefore be obvious. There is not much to be said in preference of one kind of hard wood over another for the end peg, it being a matter of fancy as to appearance. Ebony being black and very hard, should perhaps take the preference in wear, and acquiring a polish from the gentle friction it is liable to. The old Italian end pegs were mostly of cherrywood, with lines neatly turned round a centre of ivory or bone. CHAPTER IV. INJURIES TO THE HEAD OR SCROLL--INSERTION OF FRESH WOOD--COLOURING OF WHITE WOOD--SEPARATION OF HEAD FROM PEG-BOX AND RE-JOINING--STOPPING MATERIAL FOR SMALL HOLES OR FRACTURES--THE PEG-BOX CRACKED BY PEG PRESSURE. Leaving this part now, we can turn our attention for a time to reparation of injury to the head or scroll. This interesting and often highly artistic part of the general structure of the violin, and in which no man since the time of the old Brescian, Gasparo da Salo, has succeeded in effecting any permanent change of fashion, is subject to as many knocks as any other part. A piece out of the ear or first turn from the axis is, with a delicately carved scroll, so frequently seen as to be almost fashionable; little pieces out of the edges further off from the central part, are common disfigurements. Modern vandals rub these parts down with a file or glasspaper, to make it nice and even to their vision, saving themselves time and trouble. Many a graceful scroll, carved with loving care and enviable dexterity by a master of his art, has thus come to an untimely end. Should your cherished Guarneri or Stradivari scroll got chipped or fractured by accident and the piece drop, search for it at once, and when found, if you have not good mechanical ability and experience in fitting such delicate parts, it should, while fresh and free from soiling, be entrusted without delay to the care of a professional repairer of repute, but not to a provincial amateur or rough carpenter who would probably make matters worse. On setting to work after a preliminary inspection, the careful repairer will fit the parts together as they are, to ascertain that there is nothing to prevent a close join of the surfaces, sometimes a splinter will prevent a close fit of the surfaces; this must be pushed into its right position or, if in the interior, it may be better to remove it altogether. If the part is lost, then the bare space must be carefully examined and the direction of the grain and quality of the surrounding wood matched as closely as possible; otherwise the most accurate fitting and finishing off will not make a good restoration. The repairer of experience will have at hand a large quantity of odds and ends of different kinds of maple, curled or plain; perhaps old worn out necks or otherwise useless fragments of relics of a bygone age, and not necessarily of musical instruments. But sometimes these are not to be obtained, nothing but new or modern wood, and it may be of good appearance and applicable excepting for the colour. What is to be done? There is the drawback to new white wood, that it is difficult to colour down to match the surrounding wood, when it has been fixed, and besides, if the part happens to be where there is any friction, the white wood soon makes itself apparent, if not very conspicuous. It is advantageous, therefore, to colour the wood artificially before placing in position. There have been many ways adopted at times for meeting this requirement. It must be remembered, however, that there is no perfectly successful mode of artificially colouring wood so as to defy detection, but small portions such as are under consideration at the present moment may be treated so as to look tolerably well. Firstly, a well known, often tried, but very bad method is to steep a piece of white new wood in a solution of nitric acid and water. When dry, old age will seem to have crept over and through it, but of a delusive and unnatural kind. The corrosive properties of the acid still remain and gradually disintegrate the fibres until the whole mass becomes rotten. It may be fairly termed premature old age, as the lowering or toning down of the colour in wood and other materials seems to be caused by similar, if not identical, constituents of the ordinary atmosphere, but under different conditions. Another way is lay the pieces of wood upon a stove with a regulated heating power and watching for the exact degree of change in the colour with continued heat. There is very little to be said against it for small repairs, the degree of heat required for the desired tint is insufficient to damage the wood but enough to harden it, and if not too hastily done the colouring will go quite through. Among other methods is tinting the wood by any of the various stains sold for the purpose. Few of them are of any good to the violin repairer, some choking the softer parts and leaving the harder ones or threads standing out lighter when they should be darker. Their colour, if it were not for this drawback, is sometimes good. Some of the manufacturers of new musical instruments on the continent lower the colour of the wood before varnishing by staining it with a solution of bichromate of potash. Sometimes when dexterously applied the colour is very good, but the stain is liable to make itself too evident in parts where the wood may be a little more spongy than at others. Most of the instruments treated in this way may be recognised at a glance, the curl of the maple is brought out strongly, in fact overdone. With small portions of wood for repairing this stain may, with much caution, be used to advantage. It has the property of throwing up the threads of the pine and the nutmeggy parts of the maple without impairing seriously the clearness of the grain under the varnish. The preparation of the solution is as follows--some pieces of bichromate of potash can be put into any ordinary bottle of a convenient size and water poured on to them. The water will take up a certain quantity in solution which will be too strong for the repairer's use; some of it, say a gill, can be put into an equal quantity of clear water, and then painted over the wood to be coloured down. There will not be any perceptible colouring for half-an-hour or so, but further exposure to good or strong sunlight will gradually bring about a change from the slight orange tint to the dull light brown approaching that produced by the slow secret process adopted by "Old Father Time." It must be kept in mind that bichromate of potash is a poison. There are other stains that will bring a good colour to the surface of the wood, but are likely to change colour when the varnish is applied. The whole work of careful restoration may thus be upset in a moment. All stains should be carefully and repeatedly tested before being applied to any work of importance. Some repairers use a hastily made solution of powdered colour such as burnt umber, and paint or rub it into the wood. This process is to be condemned as resulting in opaqueness and giving a tinkered aspect to the wood and work. There are doubtless many substances or liquids capable of imparting a tint resembling that alone caused by age, but experience only will enable the repairer to decide which is best. It may be as well to point out that some tinting substances are more suitable for colouring wood of a dense quality than for a more open grained or spongy one. Much will depend on the judgment exercised and skill in matching tints. When it becomes absolutely necessary to use fresh white wood, this will require more colouring than an older piece, but a rather strange thing in connection with this is that if some of the varnish has been removed from the parts adjacent to the freshly inserted wood, the old material will require colouring down as well as the new, but not so much. This seems like some indication that varnish does get lowered in tint as age progresses; it may be, however, that the top surface of the wood gets darker than the under parts from the action of light. The final touching up or finish of the newly inserted wood and its varnishing will have to remain over for the present, and will be taken up after the mechanical work is concluded. Having thus far got to work upon a fractured or lost piece that may have been knocked off a projecting part of the scroll, there are other injuries likely to occur to this part of the instrument and caused in a variety of ways, some occasionally seeming mysterious in their origin. Thus from a weakness or flaw in the grain of the wood, or it may be from a blow having first started a crack and successive ones gradually increasing the fracture, the scroll itself will come away bodily, separating at the weakest part just behind the second turn. This is a delicate matter for manipulation. If the fracture is quite new, the raw surfaces uninjured and some properly prepared rather strong glue is handy, then an almost instant application of it to both surfaces and pressing them together, exactly fitting, will result in an effectual and lasting junction of the parts. But supposing the breakage to have occurred some time back and the parts to be separate and soiled, the difficulties are much increased, as in the majority of cases no purchase can be obtained whereby a good pressure can be directly applied. Cramps cannot be applied, therefore, with any degree of safety, even if a good grip can be obtained and with the safeguard of some padding, as the first is bound to injure the wood around, leaving an ugly imprint of the grip, and thus making things worse in appearance instead of better. The other is likely to be productive of slipping out of position, the hold not being retained, and vexatious results ensuing with the accompaniment occasionally of unprintable language coming from the repairer. The best way on all occasions will be found to be that in which patience is not taken as a virtue but as necessity, and the presence of Old Father Time altogether ignored, which may often mean time saved. Constant practice may give facility in keeping pace with that steady old party with the hourglass, but a good result is seldom obtained when the clock is much consulted during the progress of the work in hand. It is this which has caused the complete ruin of many a damaged gem from Cremona's workshops of the olden time. We will therefore suppose the repairer to be unfettered by time and that he will be properly paid for work that will tend to restore the commercial value, as well as the usefulness and beauty. The main consideration will be the manner of getting a proper attachment of parts that cannot be wedged or forced together at once, in fact, to get a good purchase or leverage. This must be either obtained indirectly or dispensed with altogether. For the former, building up or "making," as it is termed, must be resorted to, and which may include temporarily glueing fresh wood on to the old parts to be separated or cut away afterwards. Many inexperienced repairers are too apt to look upon all glueing as for permanency, but practice should soon make it plain that all joinings are effected only for such length of time as may be desirable. In making or building up a part from which we can obtain a stand or commanding point from which to get a more direct purchase, it may be necessary to glue one or more pieces of wood, cut to a proper shape and stuck with a dab of thick glue and left until dry. For this purpose the soft white wood or poplar referred to at the beginning will be found useful, it is so easily cut with a chisel or knife keen edged--this condition is an essential at all times. By the bye, some readers may be thinking of the best means of getting a nice clean edge to their knife or chisel. There are several kinds of oilstone or hone in repute for giving a finishing or sharp cutting edge, England, America and the European continent supplying them, the "Chalney Forest" being the commonest known in England; the American "Arkansas" or "Washita" are expensive when very good, but there is nothing that can beat a well selected piece of "Turkey stone" with a nice even surface to begin with. For obtaining a clean cutting edge, a few drops of oil before rubbing will be sufficient. Olive or good mineral oil will do, the latter preferably as it gradually evaporates; whereas vegetable oils acquire a siccative property from contact with the minute particles of steel; the stone then gets clogged and unworkable till thoroughly cleansed. Mineral oil disappearing gradually leaves but little residue, which can be now and again wiped off. In cases where the utmost delicacy of surface cutting or close fitting is required, and where no other tool but the chisel can be used, it may be as well to have at hand a stout, smooth leather strap fixed at each end over a piece of wood about twelve inches in length. The residue on the Turkey stone can be taken off with a knife--care being taken that no dust or grit is with it--and smeared on the strap with a little olive oil. The chisel or knife used briskly and gently on this will after a few passes become as near perfection of keenness as possible. After getting everything in readiness, which will include the carving to shape, of any wood that is to act as a support or fulcrum, these parts must be made to fit as accurately as possible, and may not require glueing but at one or two places and those selected to come in contact with those of the original structure least liable to be affected or damaged. Thus the interior of the peg-box will be found a convenient position from which to build a support that shall reach up underneath the volute or under turn of the scroll. Having well tried the parts as to the fitting, the support or prop may be secured or glued in roughly to the lower surface of the peg-box--presuming of course that the pegs have all been removed--and left to dry hard. When so the parts had better be tried for fitting again, and if any little inaccuracy shows itself, or the pressure in glueing the fracture is likely to be uneven and the junction be untrue, a little paper or card may be inserted or even glued in between, or where judgment may dictate, to enable a good distribution of the balance of pressure necessary. There can be no certain description given of the size or form of the supports or made up parts to be temporarily fixed; all must depend upon the estimation of what is best to be done under the circumstances; it can be likened to engineering on a minute scale, quite as interesting, but less dangerous, while more comfortably conducted in your own home without exposure to the baleful influence of unsympathetic elements. The next and most necessary proceeding will be the cleansing of the surfaces that are to be permanently joined. In most instances the application of clean cold water in a sponge will be sufficient, but where much grime and grease have accumulated different means must be resorted to. Soap is not to be recommended but, and especially if the surfaces are irregular, some pure benzine, applied or slightly scrubbed in by a stiff brush, not too large, and the parts then wiped repeatedly on a clean cotton or other absorbent rag. Pure benzine, if not rubbed in too hard or too long, will not injure the adjacent varnish, be it the delicate film on a thousand pound gem of Cremona or the flinty covering of a less presumptuous output from Naples. When evaporation is complete, it will be so in a few minutes, some clean water brushed in and wiped away, will leave the surfaces in a state for receiving glue. The glue should be of good strength--the junction being intended to be permanent--and applied in a warm atmosphere or the parts warmed a little, as, under different conditions the glue will coagulate or "set" (diagram 18). When the parts are placed properly in position, and the outside blocks or buffers adjusted for opposing pressure, the cramps may be applied and screwed fairly tight. If the surfaces meet well and the pressure is properly distributed, the glue will ooze out at the juncture of the fractured parts. This can be wiped off with a cloth, but occasionally mended parts cannot be got at easily, if so the glue must be rubbed away after cramps and moulds have been removed, by a damp sponge or cloth and then wiped dry. Sometimes differently to the above mentioned simple fracture, it may be of the kind described by surgeons as comminuted or split into small fragments. This will be found to be much more troublesome than the former; after cleansing as usual, if the injured parts are actually separated from the main structure, judgment must be exercised in selecting those portions--the largest if possible--that when glued in, will act as a support for others to be afterwards inserted. The same attention in kind and amount will mostly bring about a satisfactory result, but frequently with this class of fracture minute pieces may have been lost past recovery, leaving a small gap here and there to be filled up somehow. These places, if large enough, should have pieces let in according to the manner before described. If they are too small for this treatment--a little experience will enable the eye to judge at a glance--then the only course will be to fill them up with some kind of paste or improvised mixture. For this purpose a good "stopping" must be made. This has, in olden times as well as the present, been a difficulty to meet. Many kinds of material have been used, most of them having some objectionable quality; some repairers keeping some kind, others generally making further experiments. Among the various materials plaster of Paris or common chalk worked up in glue has been frequently used; it is certainly strong for some time after use, but gradually, as age creeps on, contraction takes place towards the central portion, and a small fissure all round is seen more and more evident, and which gets filled with grime causing a very distinct black line, which draws attention to the spot, the substance also being so much harder than the surrounding wood, gets polished with a little friction and usage and declares its unsympathetic nature; further, it is difficult to colour successfully, or even well, and for these objections it should never be used. Wax is another material that has been extensively in use among the older English repairers, but it has very little to recommend it except handiness, and that quality ought not to be placed in the balance against much more important ones. It is not easily colourable; with usage the top surface gets wiped off, leaving a hollow. Powdered wood with shellac, or the latter with some heterogeneous materials have also failed, as the alcoholic solution destroys the surrounding varnish. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 18.] Sealing wax has also in turn been used with no better result. Other substances are met with whose precise nature is not known, odd mixtures made up in a hurry at the moment of requirement, but no material or mixture has been found to excel that made with wood and glue. Many, perhaps the majority of instances in which this has been used, have also been failures; not from any inherent defect in the substance, but from lack of proper management. Different varieties of wood have been tried, a great drawback being the contraction when the glue dries; this is markedly the case when a hard wood, powdered by glass-paper, is used. The granulations and their hardness are also objectionable, and if ground up too small, contraction to a greater degree takes place, and the repairer's object is defeated. Long experience has shown that the disintegrated fibres of soft pine, not powdered, offer the best security against contraction, it can be made strong or weak according to the thickness of glue used, is always at hand, and on the whole gives the least trouble. It requires little or no colouring, and moreover approaches nearest in character--or can be made to do so--to the surrounding material. If there is a selection possible, the well known soft grained American pine should in preference be used. There is a good and a bad way of managing the process to ensue. To roughly seize a chump of wood and begin filing it away anyhow, collecting the residue and making a rough paste, will bring disappointment, as sure as houses built with wrongly mixed mortar. To put method into the matter, a piece of clear, knotless, soft, grained wood should be obtained and cut to a cylindrical form (diagram 19). A flat file of rather fine texture--this may be according to the size of the instrument to be repaired--should be worked against it at right angles. The file (not glass or sand-paper) must not be of the toothed kind, but grooved. The shower of particles sent off during the action of filing, will consist of a number of minute silky fibres, which, of course, must be collected together, placed upon a clean porcelain dish, or palette, and worked up with glue--strong--for filling spaces in the maple, and weaker, if used for the pine of the front table. It can be tucked into the crevices as required by the end of a small, worn, or pointed knife. Some portions will remain above the surface and, in fact, will not go in completely, owing to the fibrous, or threadiness of the mass, but this constitution is the safeguard against its contraction, the glue in drying clinging round the fibres instead of to itself. When dry and hard the projecting portions can be neatly levelled off. If, as will sometimes happen, a little hole or two can be perceived, perhaps under magnifying power, the process can be repeated on a minute scale. By attention to the above there will be but small risk of contraction, and if cleanly done there will not be much trouble in colouring the part to match the surroundings. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 19.] We can now advance another step and notice a frequently occurring fracture that is caused by the constant pressure and tuning up of the A peg, at a part which in many violins, owing to the peculiarity of design, is a very weak one, the grain of the wood above the peg being short and liable to overstraining by impetuous performers. Being one of the most inconvenient positions on the instrument for working upon, if the repairing is not effected in a methodical manner, it is nearly certain to come undone again. The crack is more often than not unperceived for a considerable time by the performer, and meanwhile grease and dirt work their way secretly into the pores of the wood. A repairer may take a glance at the state of the fracture, whip out some glue, paint a little on each side, wriggle the whole well at the risk of extending the wound, get in a little more glue, and let that harden under pressure from the cramps, which--unless extraordinary care and skill is exercised, damage other portions of the work--replace the peg and send the instrument home again apparently as sound as new (diagram 20). This treatment, if resorted to immediately after a sudden and clean fracture, may be effectual for some time, but if, as above mentioned, it has begun secretly and enlarged by degrees, the kind of repairing described will serve but a few turns of the peg, when crack it goes once more. Off to the fiddle hospital again, where it may be possibly subjected to a repetition of the treatment, especially if the owner is of an economical turn of mind as regards "bill of costs." [Illustration: DIAGRAM 20.] Under the above circumstances of combined age and dirt, some repairers would dare to increase the fracture or pull the scroll quite off in order to get at the part, cleaning it well before glueing it on again. This is making things worse, particularly as this part of the violin is one of the most awkward at which to apply direct strong pressure on a good and neat junction. Sometimes the first mode is resorted to with the addition of what is called bushing the peg-hole, that is, after the glueing performance has been gone through, it will last strong enough while the hole is being enlarged, a cylindrical plug of wood being inserted, and glued. This is levelled down and re-bored, to suit the peg or a fresh smaller one. This treatment is to be avoided if possible, as it is accompanied by a more or less disfigurement of the "cheeks" of the peg-box, and at the best is uncertain. A much more sure and neat method is, in the first place to clear all dirt and grease away possible, and gently work some clean water into the crack, repeatedly wiping with a clean cloth. When sufficiently done, some strong glue may be worked in, in like manner, cramps and pads applied and the parts brought neatly in contact. When the glue is thoroughly hard and dry, on the inside of the peg box extending each side of the crack and beyond the peg hole, a space must be cut away having straight sharp sides to the depth of about 1/16 of an inch, perhaps a trifle less. It must be done with keen edged chisels--size according to requirement--and the walls made as even as a piece of plate glass. Sometimes, in consequence of the shortness of the peg box, it will be necessary to make the cut away space extend further upward, and into the solid part. In all instances it will test the mechanical dexterity and patience for cutting in confined spaces. When this has been accomplished to satisfaction, a piece of maple without curl or knot must be cut a little thicker than what has been removed, but as to superficial area, fitting to a hair's breadth if skill will allow. Some old scrolls, particularly among the old Italians, are made of beech or other tough woods; in these instances the material must be matched according to the means at the disposal of the repairer. In cutting the small veneer of wood to be placed in position, care should be taken that when fitted in, the grain should run as nearly as possible at right angles with that of the part to be repaired. If this is attended to, with all other necessary precautions, there will be little cause for fear of the part going bad again, in fact it should be actually stronger than before. It may occasionally happen that both sides of the peg-box have been strained and split, with accompanying conditions of previous bad repairing and dirt. The same treatment will suggest itself for the "double event" as sportsmen say. But the two fractures are really as easily repaired--that is, with proper care and skill--as the single one. This is because the same cramps can be used for joining the two fractures simultaneously. For this operation the cut out space referred to close by, if not covering the peg-hole, will have to be repeated on the opposite side with great exactness, so as to allow of a single fitting up and filling the intermediate space, the grain running as described before, and which will therefore be--when placed in position--with the end of the grain towards the spectator--looking towards the front of the peg-box. It should be neatly and very closely fitted (diagram 21). In carving the blocks that are to be used outside the peg-box for evenly distributing the pressure, precautions must be taken not to cut them of equal thickness, or when the pressure is applied, they are likely to slip, particularly when the peg-box diminishes rapidly in width under the volute. They must therefore be cut more or less wedge like, according to the modelling or proportion of the parts, so that when placed on, the screwing of the cramp will be direct. When this is done to satisfaction, the usual process advised for the glueing may be proceeded with, and being carefully seen to be in proper order, the cramp with pads against the outside cheeks of the peg-box may be screwed on rather tightly. When quite dry, the cramp being unscrewed, the side block of wood will be found firmly adhering, with the superfluous glue squeezed up from between the surfaces by the pressure. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 21.] The next proceeding will be to level down the projecting parts of the block in front, to the line of the throat. This being accomplished with great neatness--the line of old work and new wood being exactly level, a line may be drawn with a pencil or cut with the point of a knife over the block as a continuation of the inner surfaces of the peg-box. If carefully managed the knife point is preferable, a piece of stiff card or very thin veneer may be cut to the width, bent over and the point run down each side. The advantage of the knife line is that you have already a cut to work up to. After this the chiseling out or mortising can be proceeded with. The tool must be very keen edged, and as the cutting has in great part to be done against the grain, no violence must be exercised; rapidity will only come with regularity in taking off thin shavings. When all the surfaces have been carefully pared down until, as regards thickness and evenness of line and surface, the peg-box is just as it left the hands of the original maker, there will remain to be done the clearing of the wood at each of the peg-holes which will have been covered by the block perhaps wholly or more than half way. In the case of the double fracture this will be found to be in the same condition on both sides. The hole will require continuing through the fresh wood, in fact re-boring so far as this is concerned. It will be a more or less delicate operation to prevent splitting the wood, especially if from shaving down to the surrounding levels, it is not very stout. To guard against catastrophy, a small hole should be bored exactly in the centre. Particular attention must be paid to this, or the whole work may be spoilt and a fresh block or bushing of the hole be found necessary, and much of your work to be done again. The small hole may be drilled if you have the necessary means at hand, if not a small brad-awl may be used, not of the usual round kind, but square. Such brad-awls are, I believe, known as chairmender's brad-awls. If one cannot be obtained, an ordinary round one can, with a little trouble, be filed square. The advantage of this form of awl is that it does not split the wood and can be used with safety and certainty where one of the ordinary pattern would be certain to split and spoil the work. Several sizes may be used to enlarge the aperture, the square edges breaking away the sides without causing an extended crack in the direction of the grain. When sufficiently enlarged, recourse may be had to the rat-tailed or circular file. Here again much care must be taken, as the toothing of the file is arranged somewhat in the fashion of a screw, and if the tool is used one way it soon buries itself, becomes tightly wedged and will inevitably split the surrounding wood. It must therefore be turned in a direction that may be called backward, the revolutions to the left instead of to the right. It will take a little more time than might be expected, but the result will be more satisfactory, free from danger of splitting and the interior surface of the hole be made smooth. The use of one, a degree or two finer in tooth will give enough finish. A constant look out must be kept that the tool is working properly in the centre; should it be found working a little too much to one side, it must be removed and the opposite part gently cut away by a slender sharp knife so that the equality may be restored. Caution must be exercised that the action of the tool is arrested at the right moment, that is, when the opening made in the fresh wood is worked closely up to that of the old; the tool should not be allowed to work against the walls of the old aperture, as there is much risk of damage or enlargement and the necessity of a fresh peg, which is to be avoided, if the set of pegs have been doing their duty well and are free from splits. In the fitting of the peg, a degree of tightness into the new wood will be found advantageous; the surface being fresh and softer than that of the old, soon accommodates itself during the insertion and revolution of the peg, whereas the process will have been going on a long time with the old walls which have become hardened. After a few turns with the inserted peg, the fitting of it will have been tested, and if satisfactory, it may be taken out; a piece of soft chalk stroked down and followed by a piece of very dry old soap in the same manner at the parts coming into contact with the interior walls of the aperture and will stop any squeaking or catching. The proportion of soap to chalk must be varied, the one, soap, being increased according to the catching or jerking and lessened if there is too much slipping and no grip. It may be as well to note at the same time that the peg should be quite circular, or it will revolve by fits and starts notwithstanding soap and chalk, or any other mixture. CHAPTER V. FRACTURE OF PEG-BOX AND SHELL--CHIPS FROM THIS PART--FILLING UP OF SAME--RESTORATION TO ORIGINAL FORM, AFTER PARTS HAVE BEEN LOST--WORN PEG-HOLES, RE-FILLING OR BORING SAME. We may now take another degree lower down and study the treatment best for a fracture similar to that last described, but which, if at one of the lower peg-holes, may appear quite as difficult to manage, if not more so, as at the upper part, in consequence of the curved form of the shell or lowest part of the grooved back of the scroll. Firstly, the cleansing must be effected and drying, as previously with the upper fracture, bringing or pressing the parts together for testing their accuracy of fit. The cramp must be again brought into use. Owing to the wider and deeper hollowing of the back at this part and the longer and often very unequal continuation of the line of contour, the shell or tail end sometimes curling up more abruptly than usual, an increase in the substance of the padding against the cramp will be found necessary. A piece of cork cut or filed to the shape will prove handy and effective. The superficial area of the interior walls of this part of the peg-box being much greater, the thickness ditto, there is seldom a necessity for fitting a block of wood in the manner before mentioned, unless as sometimes it is found, the part has been so worm-eaten as to be too weak for its work of supporting the pegs and sustaining the strain of the strings. In that case, excision of the "honey-combed" part is obligatory and a slice of wood must be let in as before explained. Sharp shaving with a minimum of force will be required. Should the worm-eaten portion extend to the outsides or "cheeks" of the peg-box, it would be well to insert here also another slice of fresh wood as before, the length according to requirement, but in these instances, the portion of the head piece under consideration being lower down and broader, the grain of the inside slice may run continuously with the original wood. It will also be inserted first, and not until the glue is quite hard will the arrangements for the outer one be commenced. Especial care will be required in the management of the cramps--one or two may be necessary--as, if mere padding is placed between the iron and the wood, the latter, being in a state equivalent to rottenness, will be crushed together and the shape will be ruined. As a preservative against accident a piece of soft wood, perhaps a quarter of an inch in thickness, and cut in width and shape equal to that of the "cheek" of the peg-box, and placed over the part with a piece of paper against the varnished surface, will enable the rotten portion to keep its form, the pressure being distributed; care must be exercised in carving the block of wood that it reaches over and quite on to the sound parts. When the glue has hardened perfectly and the cramps have been removed, the careful shaving down and finishing of both the inner and outer blocks or slices may be proceeded with. If the burrowings and tortuous course of the obnoxious depredator give indication of its having been of huge proportions for its species, for these creatures vary in size from a small pin to nearly an eighth of an inch in diameter, and the tunnellings are not very close together, then pieces of fresh wood matched carefully and fitted in the manner before described, must be inserted and glued in. This will, if the wood is much riddled, be much like mosaic work, the fitting in of the pieces running here and there over the surface. The contour, however, is preserved by this treatment, it being difficult, unless the repairer has considerable artistic knowledge, to keep or reproduce the exact form if the half or more of the peg-box and adjacent portions are cut clean away as is often done. Scrolls of masterly design and execution are frequently met with mounted on a peg-box, selected or carved, without the least reference to the style of the original, imparting to the whole a hideously mixed and vulgar aspect. Save then, every morsel of the original work that you possibly can, especially if it be the work of old Italian makers, as it will be sure to have about it some points of interest, or that will call for your admiration of its artistic merits. Bear in mind that at the present day utility and low price are "to the front." Unfortunately for art, a very large section of the public called musical, ignore the artistic aspect of the violin, apart from its individual authorship and monetary equivalent, and think almost solely--not always in the right way--about its working or sounding capacity. To them one sort of curled heading to the peg-box is as good as another, if strong enough, the whole of this part of the mechanism being simply dedicated to the winding up of unwilling "catgut." The old masters, their pupils, and modern imitators, have thought otherwise and treated this portion of the structure as that in which they could concentrate much of their best artistic talent. To them it has been the crowning head piece of the work, and requiring for effect the closest attention in detail. Every part of it has received, by each master, a distinctive touch of tool, or conception of design, that the modern repairer should earnestly "read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest," so that if a small portion is by carelessness, or unavoidable accident, chipped off, the contour may not by restoration (?) be spoilt, or the flow of line ruinously disturbed. Some remarks might be made by some admirers of high finish in its simple sense, about the bold unfinished gouging of some of the old Italian makers, and queries whether the irregularities should be studiously followed up by the repairer, as it should unquestionably be with work of high refinement and minute finish. The answer is at once simple and conclusive, every part that can be preserved should be so, and well studied, that the new work may be a continuation of the old to the minutest detail, even to the accidental emphasis of tooling left by the maker. The fact must not be overlooked, that rough as some work looks at a glance, it has been, by masters of their art, properly thought out beforehand. Rapidity of execution, coupled with fine artistic style, is not to be acquired within a short space of time. In most of the apparently rough hewn scrolls of the Italian masters there is to be seen the result of experience in cutting, perhaps, hundreds of them previously. If we examine closely the mannerism of the different schools with regard to that seemingly insignificant termination of the back grooves called the shell; the different ways, breadths, depths and direction of the gouging will be found to give, not only an accurate indication of the country, or city, in which it was carved, but with it the school, or style to which the maker belonged, besides his own individuality. As a landmark for distinguishing these interesting particulars, every part of the scroll of an old master, with its belongings, no less than any other part of the instrument, should be treated by the repairer with much reverence for its age and respect for the talent expended on it in course of its construction. That this is not always acted up to I am reminded by an instance that came under my personal knowledge many years since. A repairer and maker of some experience was examining a violin by one of the old Italian makers, that had, underneath the shell a rather sudden demarkation at the part where the graft had been fitted in. He remarked to the party who brought the violin, that if it were his own, or had been requested to put it in good order, he would file or glasspaper down the edge round the lower part of the shell, so as to make it conform with the modern work. The violin was not entrusted to his care, nor do I think many others were, judging by after events. Trust not any violin of value or interest to this class of repairer, or grief will count you for its own and mortification that of the fiddle. Occasionally small pieces get chipped off the lower rim of the shell; the latter under these circumstances, as before observed, should never be rubbed smooth with glasspaper or cut down. It is not a difficult position to get at and small pieces can easily be inserted. This part also is so fashioned that a comparatively small loss of the edge, especially at the sides, will alter the whole character and reduce a most elegant and masterly form to that associated with mere rubbish. Three or four scrolls of Stradivari's are in my recollection as having been under such treatment and the contour being destroyed there was little about the general shape to remind the spectator of the beautiful design as it left the maker's hands. But, it may be remarked by a fortunate discoverer of an old gem, my Amati has lost all this part, cut away perhaps because of its being quite past recovery, and the question arises what had better be done under these circumstances? The answer, seek some party who has an Amati with this part perfect or in excellent preservation. Take some moderately firm veneer and after careful measurement cut pieces to fit as exactly as possible the parts answering to those of your own instrument that are missing. The line from the lowest part or edge of the shell and reaching right over the top of the scroll will require earnest attention and accurate fitting. For the next stage the pegs must be taken out as a matter of course. Number each one with a pencil for identification when reinserting; lay a piece of veneer flat on the outside of the peg-box reaching up a little past the top of the scroll; to do this nicely a segment should be cut away where the volute intervenes, and with the pencil, mark carefully on each side a line neatly against the back and front. With a sharp, narrow knife cut away the veneer up to the outside of the line, leaving, if cleanly done, an exact pattern of the throat or exterior of the peg-box (diagram 22). Next, as the veneer will not bend sufficiently, cut a piece of rather stout paper, and after laying it against the back of the scroll, a rough tracing can be made and cut to exactness by degrees, trying it against the model and correcting until satisfactory. As this part of an Italian violin is not cut so mechanically as many people imagine, another and perhaps quicker way, if means are to hand, is to use thin paper and with some heelball, used by shoemakers, rub the edges that may be felt through and under the paper held in position against it. If the paper is kept from shifting a very good clear line can be obtained. The process may be adopted for the other parts instead of using the veneer, the latter would, however, be useful as a permanent guide or template, keeping its shape. This would not apply of course to tracing of the back part, which must of necessity be of a material that will bend or fold over. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 22.] Having procured a piece of sycamore, very old if possible, and with the closest resemblance in curl, texture and colour to the scroll to which it is to be attached; it must be squared up and made equal so that the tracings of the two sides of the throat may be placed in position and transferred. This must be done so accurately that the new throat shall not be out of the square or twisted. More, of course, will be traced down than will be actually left, the reason will soon be perceptible. If the tracing is clear and well defined it will not require touching; but if any part is not well brought up, it may be made sufficiently so by carefully running a pencilled line over the fainter one. The next step will be to get rid of the superfluous wood. This will be most readily done by a bow-saw after securing the block of wood in a vice, if these are not within reach, it can be done at a sawing mill where steam saws of different sizes and degrees of tooth are ready at a moment's notice and the removal of any sized masses of wood hard or soft is effected with remarkable precision and rapidity. When the sawing is complete, the fining down, or smoothing of the sawn surfaces may be proceeded with. This may be done with a file, having one side curved, the other flat, and of rather fine tooth; a glass papering will then complete the process so far as the profile view is concerned. Further progress will be made when the tracing of the back is transferred, the paper pattern being laid, or wrapped round, after being accurately adjusted. The outside wood can be removed in the same manner as last described, with the finishing, or semi-polishing to the required degree. There will be thus cut out a replica in the solid or uncarved state of the whole of the part adjoining the scroll and downwards, which will be ready for the further process of joining on to the scroll itself. To this end, the surfaces that are to be glued together at the junction will have to be got into proper shape and condition, that is, both pieces must have flat faces, that when put together, will allow the line at the top of the scroll to run continuously and truly as if forming an original carved homogeneous work. The faces must be cut by a very sharp chisel, until fitting as nearly air-tight as possible. For highly finishing off these parts a small steel scraper should be used and turned round, working it in several directions. If the scraper is quite straight and sharp, it will with gentle handling bring the surfaces very flat, no movement or wriggling being perceptible when placed together, or there may be in very good work a slight kind of suction by the air being driven out from between them. The work will be then ready for glueing. The wood should be quite warm, the glue fresh and strong. A few seconds or so may be well spent in brushing or working the glue into the pores of the two surfaces to be opposed. If they are as perfect, or true as possible, a little rubbing together will be sufficient for an effectual and lasting junction without the use of cramps; but if there is any doubt on the subject, then the process described previously for joining the parts together after fracture had better be gone through. When the whole is thoroughly dried and the glue which has exuded from between the opposing surfaces has been cut or chipped away, the gouging of the grooves down the back may be commenced, care being taken to follow the lines from the scroll downwards and gradually finishing backwards and forwards according to the grain. Different sized gouges will, of course, be required for this work, according to the fashion or type of the violin. A glass papering of the parts will complete the matter so far as the exterior is concerned. Some restorers might recommend the glueing on of the scroll to be proceeded with earlier, or before the block has been finally reduced and cut to shape. There is not very much preference one way or the other; in the one above detailed we avoid the risk of fresh damage to the scroll while sawing and cutting, the rough or more violent tooling being done before the junction is effected. It would be as well to let the new wood be of full measurement to allow of fining down the new surface to meet that of the old, which may possibly have some lustrous varnish upon it, and which every good restorer would do his utmost to preserve. After this is all satisfactorily done, the lines may be traced which are to act as guides for the hollowing of the peg-box. For this purpose a rather small chisel of the kind known among cabinet makers as a mortising chisel will be required. Gently and by degrees the mass of superfluous maple will have to be removed. It must be borne in mind that maple or other tough wood will not bear the forcing that a piece of pine will. A hard-wood workman is essentially a man of degrees, the tougher the wood the less must be shaved off at a stroke. The strong, massive form of the mortising chisel is used in order that there may be as little spring as possible in it while cutting and so prevent a hacking of the parts instead of a clean cut surface; indeed, no other proportioned tool can be used with any degree of facility. It must not be ground to a very acute angle, or the objections that are sought to be avoided will reappear in another form. Great care must be taken that the mortising does not extend to a depth that will cause the back to be thin and weak. This mistake is often seen to have been committed in very valuable instruments, especially such as have the two grooves deeply modelled, or the contour downwards from the volutes is much indented. At times, on the other hand, sound judgment has been perceptibly directed to this part and instead of cutting away wood to allow of freedom in the winding of the strings over the pegs, the holes for these have been filled up and re-bored nearer to the front edges. Many most excellent old Italian makers seem to have been rather careless with regard to the exact position of the peg-holes, making them to be equi-distant from each other. There might have been little or no objection to this in the days when the strain on the pegs was not near what it is in the present times of very high pitch. The shaft of the old pegs used in Italy at the time of the great masters, was not half as thick as is thought expedient now. Towards the latter end of last century and the beginning of this, more attention was paid to the matter, and we accordingly find the two upper peg-holes much closer together and the two lower ones ditto. Concerning the refilling or "bushing" as it is termed of the peg-holes, a few words may not be out of place. For the purpose the holes must be enlarged more or less or there may not be sufficient of the new wood to hold together when the re-boring takes place. The cutting must be truly circular and very sharply done, no tearing of the wood must be perceptible, but a clean, almost polished surface inside. A solid cylinder must be cut with great exactitude, of maple or the same kind of wood if obtainable as the scroll. The old makers did not invariably use maple, perhaps being unable to obtain it in sufficient quantities for their business purposes. It is useless to think of cutting the cylinder or rod any other way than with the grain, it is seldom if ever done, and moreover involves an expenditure of time and labour that brings no adequate return. The enlargement of the hole must be effected by a good form of tool and this in good condition; peg-hole cutters and fluted rimers are sold for the purpose. When the cylindrical rod is cut and rounded to make an exact fit, a portion can be cut off a trifle longer than will be apparently necessary so as to allow of finishing off. If satisfactory in all respects, recourse may now be had as to the solution of glue, which should be quite fresh and strong, as this is to be for a permanency. The rod or portion should be warmed if the season is cold, the glue allowed to settle round for a moment while some should be placed on the inner surfaces of the hole in which the cylinder is to form a solid fixture. When inserting the cylinder it should be worked round a little, but not jammed in with violence. Your reliance in repairing must not be in force but accurate fitting. The opposite hole to be used for the same peg must be made and treated in the same manner. Some repairers, for economy of time, would make a fresh enlargement right through the two opposite holes and push the rod through both and glueing same at one process, cutting it away from the interior of the peg-box when the glue has hardened, but this is risky work. One hole is sure to be larger than the other and the fitting scarcely likely to be accurate both sides. When a sufficient time has elapsed for the glue to dry, a piece of hard, but not too thick, cardboard should have a hole made so as to allow of placing on the projecting part of the rod, which can be now sawn off close to the card. When this is completed and the card removed, a sharp flat chisel will then reduce it to the absolute level of the surrounding plain. The next stage will be that of re-boring a fresh hole in a proper position. This must be carefully calculated, so that when complete the whole of the four strings will be independent of each other, the A string not being in friction with that of the G or the D not touching the E. If this is not attended to, much trouble will be given to the performer, the jerking or catching of the string during the winding up, not being caused by any difficulties with the fitting of the peg itself but by the string pressing on and being checked by the peg of another. The boring of the fresh hole and fitting of the peg is of course a similar operation to that just described, with the difference that the peg must be more conical, whereas the plugging must be as near equal in diameter as possible along the whole of its length. The preparation of the fresh peg to fit the new hole will be already evident as to its requirements. There is one detail to be noticed, however, that of boring the hole for the reception of the string. Of course the E will not require so large an aperture as the D. The latter will require the largest aperture of the four. If this operation is not conducted in a methodical manner, with a proper knowledge of the best treatment according to the material used for the peg, splitting will ensue, which is trying to the temper. When a peg is once split it had better be thrown aside as useless, the strain on it being unsupported by the solidity of the material. No wooden peg that has been split in the operation of boring for the string should be retained. It being necessary to use wood of the hardest or toughest consistency, the splitting tendency is increased as the grain is closer. There is discussion as to the best material for pegs, and here in my opinion the old Italian makers were wise in choosing the cherry wood seemingly abundant enough at their command. It is not so hard and brittle as ebony. Another wood was used by them, a kind of dark walnut, straight in the grain, but a little firmer than the rose wood so fashionable at the present day, which has a waxy consistency but accommodates itself to the jamming by the impetuous amateur who will have his way. CHAPTER VI. LOOSENING OF JUNCTION OF GRAFT WITH PEG-BOX, AND REFIXING SAME--GRAFTING, DIFFERENT METHODS OF PERFORMING THIS--LENGTHENING THE NECK--OLD AND MODERN METHOD--RENEWAL OF SAME--INCLINATION OF NECK AND FINGERBOARD WITH REGARD TO THE BRIDGE--HEIGHT OF LATTER, AND REASON FOR IT. In our progress downwards from the scroll and its adjoining parts, before quite leaving it we may refer to a disorder sometimes occurring when the neck is modern and grafted on to the old scroll. There are several ways, or fashions it may be termed, in which this is effected. The most usual method pursued in England and Germany is that of sawing the head off at a part below the end of the shell and then chiselling a level passage so far as a straight surface makes it necessary along the floor of the peg-box. The sides are treated in the same way but the width across diminishes as they proceed upward. The solid graft is shaped, inserted, and afterward hollowed, but of this more presently. Like all other parts of the instrument, the junction or insertion of the neck or graft sometimes gets loose, from bad fitting chiefly, bad glue or prolonged exposure to damp. When the sides or back part give warning that they are likely to part, they should be loosened still more or separated and a little clean water on a brush inserted in the cleft where discoverable, the parts being pressed and worked together until clean, for all cracked or loosened joints will be found more or less dirty and greasy. Some strong glue can be then worked in, both sides pressed together by cramps and left to dry. The backing of a flat piece of soft wood with an interleaving of stout paper or, better still, millboard, must not be forgotten. If, as sometimes happens, the flooring of the peg-box threatens to part from the graft in contact, the same course of working out dirt and inserting good glue must be pursued. In pressing the back or shell of the scroll, this being of short and sometimes abrupt hollowing, the pressure on the substance of the wood direct would be dangerous to its form. The fibres of the wood at the edge are necessarily very short and brittle. A thick piece of cork should, therefore, be placed between the cramp and the hollow grooving or shell, a small block of moderately hard wood being placed inside the peg-box as an opposing pad or buffer, the cramp may then be screwed down fairly tight. The two operations, glueing and pressing the side parts and that in connection with the shell, must not be attempted simultaneously. We may now, being on the part as it were, take up the subject of grafting and the different and best means of performing this somewhat exacting operation. Accurate calculation and sharp straight cutting are absolutely necessary for even moderate success in this undertaking. As before mentioned, there is more than one method of securing a neck to an old head. Each one carried out with the necessary skill and neatness can be made a lasting and highly finished piece of joinery. The mode adopted in England (see diagram 25) is the most ready and gives the least difficulty in a difficult undertaking. The solid end of the graft is chiselled or planed off to a slightly wedged form with a straight or square upper end which is measured to reach when inserted, nearly or just up to the lowest of the upper two peg-holes. Great care has to be taken in the cutting that the sides are equal, otherwise the scroll, when fitted, will look awry. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 23. Old method of lengthening neck, the dotted lines show it shifted forward and the part above the button cut away.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 24. Modern French method of grafting head.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 25. Modern English method of grafting head.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 26. Foreign secret method of grafting occasionally met with.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 27. Method occasionally met with, Italian.] Another method has been known as the French, and when neatly done is one of the most sparing of the old wood (see diagram 24), but it is beaten in this respect by another foreign method (diagram 26), which is less evident to the eye, although requiring more skill in accurate cutting and adjustment. Another yet more secret I have only seen in an Italian grafting, and it may be native; no join whatever is seen in a front view nor in the peg-box if this part is at all soiled or dusty, as is usually the case. This is owing to the join--there must be one of course--being each side at the angles formed by the walls of the peg-box. This is counterbalanced however by the necessary cutting away of the central line or ridge at the back for a considerable distance. If done accurately and artistically, all very well, but this is not likely to be always the case, although a comparatively easy bit of work with the original lines each side as a guide. This method of grafting is puzzling when successful, as little or nothing is perceptible from the front and not much, unless searched for, at the back. On measuring the different parts of an old violin in its original condition, we shall find the neck, taking from the edge of the upper shoulder of the instrument to a point where the nut is placed, to be not much more than four and a half inches, whereas our modern necks measured at the same parts would give five inches and an eighth. The old length taken at this part alone would give too short a fingerboard, causing the fingers to hamper each other, especially in the upper part of the register, where so many modern composers seek for effective passages. The neck must, therefore, to meet the requirements of the day, be lengthened. In the earlier part of the present century there was a method much in vogue for effecting this without interfering with the head and while keeping the greater part of the original neck (diagram 23). This was done by firstly removing the fingerboard, probably worn into ruts; the middle of the thickest or lowest part of the neck attached to the body had then to be loosened and removed, often no doubt a troublesome task owing to one, two and sometimes three nails being in the way, this in consequence of the habit of the old makers of attaching the neck with its scroll before closing up the body of the violin. Having accomplished this, the repairer chiselled off two square pieces, one on each side at the same end, and then fitted longer blocks with the grain running the same way. These were afterwards cut down to the proper form, so that the terminating part under the fingerboard increased the length of the neck to the modern standard. Of course, when fitted into the original space or socket from whence the neck was taken, the rounded part going to or above the button was now too large, this part was therefore cut, filed and finished down to the required size and shape. This method of lengthening the neck, however, went out of fashion as connoisseurs and performers, finding the old necks so frequently devoid of figure--the reason being probably that plain wood answered best for the cutting of the volutes--made the repairers remove the whole of the neck and substitute one of the best figure they could obtain. This forced fresh attention to the splicing as it is termed of the scroll to the neck or graft, and the method has continued to the present time of clearing away the whole of the neck and using handsome wood. Further impulse was given to the practice by the fact of the fingerboards put by the old makers rising so little above the body of the instrument. The bridge was made very low to accommodate this state of things. The increased rapidity of the movements of the bow from one string to another over the middle ones in the performance of modern music made a higher one absolutely imperative, as the heel of the bow would too frequently chip pieces from the waist curves. There were thus three good reasons at least for placing an entirely new neck on an old violin; firstly the plain wood of the original maker, shortness and the low angle with regard to the plane of the body. In order, therefore, that everything may be accomplished with sufficient exactitude, we will begin with the roughly sawn block ready for measuring and shaping up for its destined purpose. The scroll, which is to be replaced on a neck according with modern ideas, we will suppose to be on an Italian violin that has come down to us from the early part of the last century. The violin tuned up to the present concert pitch and music of our period having many of the modern style of difficulties, would prove utterly inadequate to the task of giving out its tones in a manner expected of it. In proceeding to work then, the workman executing this modification having selected his block of curled maple, planes it to an oblong of equal breadth. He calculates as to the best position for showing off the curl on each side of the neck when finished. Having decided which is to be the upper part or that covered by the fingerboard, this is planed to a good level and smoothed. A line drawn with a good pointed pencil or pointed knife, and sharply defined, is then drawn down the whole length exactly in the centre. At the end which is intended for the thickest to be inserted in the body of the instrument an equal width each side must be marked. Near the other end, at a distance that shall correspond with the opening of the peg-box, an equal width each side of the line must be marked off as at the other end. These two measurements will represent as nearly as possible the width of the neck along its course at the junction of the fingerboard. From the point representing the opening of the peg-box one of two lengths upwards must be decided upon; if the splicing is to be effected in the manner common in this country, a greater length will be required than for that of the French style. This latter is more to my fancy than the other, as there is less of the original wood lost. If for the former, a length of wood beyond the opening will be required of two inches, if for the latter or French a little over one inch and a half will be enough. The central line has of course been continued for the whole length of the wood. The waste wood at the end can now be sawn off down to the line. The next measurement will be, supposing the French style is adopted--that of the extreme width of the end, which will be given by taking a point at half the thickness of the peg-box wall at the part and similarly placed on the other or opposite and taking the width between the two. This divided equally and marked on the wood of the new graft each side of the central line will give the narrowest width of the part to be inserted in the peg-box. The outside may be then removed by the saw vertically. There will now be necessary the marking off a part on the graft that shall represent the thickness of the nut or the distance between the end of the fingerboard and the peg-box opening; the breadth across, or we may call it the length of the upper part of the nut, will be exactly that of and at the part where the opening will be made in the peg-box for the reception of the graft. The wood to be cleared away outside the lines which mark the width along the course of the fingerboard will be the next proceeding; it may be done neatly with a rather fine toothed saw and then carefully planed up closer to the lines, barely touching them. It is preferable to leave the sides for the present at right angles with the top surface, although they will not be kept so for long, but by thus working the measurements are facilitated. Going to the lower or wider end a line must be accurately marked quite square with the long central line, if not accurate the whole work will be thrown out of truth. On the sides there may now be marked and roughly sawn away (diagram 28) so much of the wood that shall leave enough for the cylindrical part that is to be finally rounded and finished off for handling. Care must be taken that the rounding commences underneath, a little away from the part that will be fitted into the peg-box. This of course must be according to measurement or template kept for the purpose if graftings are likely to be wanted in the future. There will now be required the marking of the exact form of the part that is to be inserted in the body of the violin, or more strictly speaking, into the upper block. This is done easily from a pattern cut to shape and size for instruments of average proportions. Sometimes, owing to the height of the ribs, the pattern cannot be applied so as to fit; in that case fresh lines must be drawn to measurement as with the central one on the fingerboard plane. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 28.] The line dividing the part exactly in the middle must be accurately done, the distance at the narrowest or lowest part that is to be glued on to the button carefully marked, allowing the top part when placed in position to be a quarter of an inch above the border (diagram 29). The width of the lowest portion must be mainly guided by the size of the button, which, although there is an average of a rough kind, is sometimes small, at others very wide. The width must be taken of the button, carefully divided into two equal parts to be marked on each side of the central vertical line (diagram 30). All below what is necessary to keep may now be cut away, the surface being kept parallel with the fingerboard plane. The parts outside the slanting lines may be hewn away, the surface running evenly with the outer lines of the fingerboard width so far as it extends, which will not be more than about an inch. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 29.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 30.] The next process will be that of excavating the part that is to receive the root or end of the neck. If the instrument has been accurately constructed with the join running down precisely in the centre, the line already marked on the root of the neck will be a safe guide for marking each side of the join the width of the portion to be cut away. The depth inward of the cutting should be an average of a quarter of an inch. In case the already excavated part in an old and much repaired instrument is roughly torn about and made unequal in its measurements, attention must be fairly directed to this part separately; that is, if too much wood has been cut away on one side it must be replaced by fresh, after clearing away irregularities in order that a good fit may be accomplished. The fresh wood must be neatly inserted or placed in position and may be held in position during the hardening of the glue by supports or wedges placed across from side to side. When quite fit by reason of its dryness, the distance from the centre must be marked and the fresh wood cut away to the required depth and width with a keen edged chisel and small shavings cut at a stroke, as there will be some cutting against the grain to be done besides working in a confined position. Great regard must be paid during the process of cutting this part that the corners or angles are quite cleared out, or the neck when inserted as a trial or rehearsal will not give a truthful report of the accuracy of the incisions owing to some insignificant portions sticking up and causing the neck to look awry. So far we may take the fitting as having been accurately done to the central line down the middle of the instrument; but now comes a further process in connection with the adjustment of the neck, and that is, the rise and inclination of the level of the fingerboard in relation to the bridge which is to be fitted eventually. The average--it may almost be called the standard--height of the violin bridge is one three-eighth inches. There are occasions when this measurement may be departed from, as in the instance of a high model, when an eighth, or even more, may be taken off with advantage. This must not be taken as necessary for the proper emission of the tone from a highly built instrument. The raising of the bridge in modern times is due to other causes, the most important being that of allowing better play or room for bowing rapidly over from side to side without rasping the border at the waist. It is an alteration which accompanied the lengthening of the neck and stop in the early part of the last century. To obtain a proper setting or inclination of the neck, several ways are adopted by repairers. They vary according to the kind of guide or pattern used. This is usually cut from a piece of hard wood, sycamore or pear. It is sometimes made as a double guide in the adjustment of both the inclination and the elevation of the under part of the fingerboard above the body of the instrument at the junction of the neck. This we will call No. 1. The other, No. 2, is similar, but has the height of the bridge only as a fixture, the rise of the end of the neck above the border being higher and lower at discretion. Another way, No. 3, is somewhat like No. 1, but would be used when the fingerboard is glued on before the setting. This should only be done by a fitter of some experience, as a little error in calculation is likely to lead to disaster. With each the application of the guide, or pattern, is the same, namely the testing of the exact coincidence of the inclination of the top surface of the bed under the fingerboard (diagram 31), or above the latter as shown in diagram 32. While getting the right inclination, in both instances it will be found necessary to ease the fitting of the neck into its socket, as the difference of the angle at which the neck is inserted causes an increase in the tightness of the contact of the parts. The lower part of the facing that is to be inserted in the socket, will have to be made to go into it at an angle conformable to that of the inclination or set of the neck. This will require executing with precision, and great care will have to be exercised that the squareness or rectangular disposition of the upper part already fitted and adjusted to the middle line down the instrument is not interfered with. It will be well to test this as the work proceeds. Some of the lower part, that coming into contact with the button, will have to come away in order that all parts may fit, and when fixed, form a homogeneous rigid part of the structure. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 31.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 32.] To ensure complete success in all the foregoing operations, every tool in use must be well sharpened, and all the guide lines accurately drawn. Part of the neck left rough and projecting beyond the button may be left for future manipulation, but the joints that are to receive glue--if done by a workman of skill and experience--will fit almost air tight. With regard to this, the parts likely to give the amateur most trouble will be the exact fitting of the flat opposing surfaces of the root or squared end of the neck or graft with the socket. It will be necessary to get a perfectly flat surface. In the first place, glass papering must be avoided, not from unsuitableness of material, for in that respect it is a temptation, but from the difficulty of regulating the pressure of the hand; with the exercise of the utmost care in handling the glass paper, even when it is backed by a piece of hard wood, there will be found, when the test comes, a rotundity of surface that was deemed impossible under the circumstances. Careful scraping of the surfaces must be chiefly relied on for exactness. As good a mode of proceeding as any is as follows--after the first roughing into shape and then flat chiselling has been done to as great a nicety as possible, all the irregularities--there are sure to be some--can be worked down with the edge of a straight square file, used very steadily and crossways repeatedly. This done sufficiently and tested with some hard and truly cut substance, metal preferably, will be an exactly flat surface for working upon the final or finished surface. The next thing used will be a carefully sharpened and keen edged steel scraper. To put this tool into proper order for the purpose, it must be sharpened on a hone, not exactly at right angles, as the first impulse would suggest. The hone, or stone, must be quite flat and unworn. If done carefully, a nice level edge will be perceptible along its course, but it is not yet at its best. Placing it on a bed of hard wood, or evenly shaped mass of iron, projecting over and held firmly in position, a good stout brad-awl may be passed along from end to end, keeping the awl perfectly flat on the horizontal surface. The scraper may now be turned over and process repeated, but not in the same manner or angle, for the awl will be held vertically with the handle downwards and firmly pressed along the edge at right angles with the horizontal plane, this will cause a burr right along which will have a razor-like sharpness and cutting power. This scraper can now be applied (not too heavily) over the filed down surface, and thus work down finally all irregularities left by the file. The adaptation of this tool will at once be perceptible in the fine whitish soft shavings that will come off during its application. A little repetition across and across should give an almost perfect level. Different sized scrapers may be used for the other surfaces where it is desirable to obtain the most accurate fitting. If all the processes have been properly carried out, the parts when tried by inserting the neck or graft for trial, should fit together without the slightest looseness or wriggling. They will now be ready for permanently glueing together. It will be seen after perusing the above that the fitting of the neck or graft to an old violin, well or badly preserved, is a task not to be overcome easily and satisfactorily without much care and no little practical experience. The whole of the work must be well looked over and tested as to the accurate fitting in all respects; nothing must be left uncertain or loose; in fact the flat surfaces for a perfectly successful result at the junction of all the parts should be as nearly as possible air-tight. Having seen that the glue of good quality is strong and clean, the surfaces that are to come in contact may be brushed over with it. For this purpose a small hog-hair brush of about three-eighths of an inch wide is handy. Where the grain or threads of the wood run parallel with the surface--this being less absorbent than the other parts,--there will be less painting over required, but where the grain comes end upwards to the surface the glue will be rapidly absorbed. The painting over these parts must be repeated, the glue as a matter of course being kept warm--all the work ditto, until absorption ceases. This is a matter of some importance, as in many instances joints have become loose or broken apart, not from the perishing of the glue or damp, but from the want of this precaution on the part of the repairer during this preliminary proceeding. It must be borne in mind that this is to be a permanent junction, not to come apart from any jarring or rough usage; it is also to be one of the most rigid, and only to be separated by a saw or chisel in the hands of some future repairer when it shall be absolutely necessary. Sufficient glue having been applied the work may be put aside. It will now be apparent to those who have possibly done a little glueing that the whole of the wetted portions have to some degree swollen, and therefore if the junctions were brought together they would be found too tight and refuse to meet. Just so; and that is one of the reasons for placing the work aside until the glue has dried at all the parts painted with it. When after a sufficient time has elapsed the work is examined, it will be found to have contracted to its old size and form. There will not be the necessity for waiting till the glue is at its hardest; probably time will not allow of this, some days being absolutely required, but it must, for the next process, be very firm and seemingly dried through. Examination will reveal the fact of the whole of the surfaces that have been wetted, being raised or roughened under the foregoing operations. Recourse must now be had to our small scrapers again. These will again be applied carefully across and across the surfaces, until, in the judgment of the operator, the surfaces are level and clean. Particular care must be taken with the edges, angles and corners, that the superabundant glue is removed. The right angle of the scraper will be used for this purpose, and should a small particle or two, at any angle or corner, refuse to budge at the request of such a light tool as a scraper, the powers of a sharp chisel must be brought to bear upon the subject, and the obstacle removed. Close attention should be paid to the above, as in the operation of first glueing, the wood, or woods, having unequal absorbing powers, will swell in accordance therewith, and upset the calculations that have been so carefully made for the close junction of the parts. For first rate work, the scraping must be so carefully and accurately done down to the surface of the different parts, as to leave little or no glue above the surface of the wood. The desired result will thus be secured, that of the pores of the wood being closed or filled up. For the next stage the glue will not be necessarily quite so strong, a degree weaker will do. Everything must be ready to hand, including a cramp of sufficient size and strength. Before proceeding further, however, the manner of the application of the cramp must be considered. And now, how are we to obtain a direct pressure of the cramp on the largest surface, and which would have to be in one direction, end to end of the violin, seemingly a perfectly impracticable matter? The answer is, it is not practicable, hence the above numerous injunctions as to preliminaries, and which have to do with counterbalancing the impossibility of direct and strong pressure. The only pressure that can be applied directly is that of a nearly perpendicular one, the cramp grasping the button from underneath, with a proper guard or padding of millboard, or cork, cut into shape. A full brush of glue will now be passed over the whole of the surface of the socket, or receptacle for the root of the neck; which latter must an instant after be treated in the same manner. The two must be treated as one operation, and in a warm atmosphere. In the summer time no extra precautions will be necessary; but in cool weather the strong glue will soon set if the parts to be operated on are not kept in close proximity to a heating stove, or fireplace, or the apartment kept at summer heat. The neck and socket being thus kept at a warm temperature, the former will be firmly thrust into position, and with hand pressure put as close as possible. The superfluous glue will ooze out all around at the junction of the different parts; if it does not, that will be a sign that there is a looseness somewhere, or the surfaces have not been forced together close enough. This must be seen to at once, the parts separated and examined. It may be that the failure has happened through carelessness in allowing a chip to get in, or a piece of grit has prevented the opposing surfaces coming together. This being removed by a small knife, the brush, with a little more fresh glue, may be passed over the surfaces again, and the fitting this time should be perfect. The cramp and padding should be at once placed in position and screwed down tightly. All glue appearing above the joints should be carefully wiped away with a cloth kept ready to hand for the purpose; it is better to do that now than have to scrape or cut it away when hard; it will also save time. Ample time must be allowed for the glueing to thoroughly dry. This must be estimated according to the conditions of the time and place. In very warm weather, or where the atmosphere is heated artificially, the time consumed in the drying and hardening is less than when the air is saturated with moisture. When on examination the dryness is such as will warrant the removal of the cramp, this can be done. If all the measurements, fitting and precautions have been duly attended to, the neck or graft, with its line in the centre--supposing the present method is that adopted before the fingerboard is placed in position--will form an exact continuation of a line down the centre of the violin. A look down from end to end, or placing a long straight edged rule against the line, will be a way of testing this: if all is correct, the line will be perfectly straight and not bent. Should the latter be the case, the measurements, or fitting, in some respects, will have been inaccurate. It would be very provoking to find it so after all the trouble undertaken, and many instances are to be seen where the work has been left in this condition, and the stringing up and regulation has been, not only under great disadvantages, but absence of comfort in playing, and indeed the proper emission of the tone has been sacrificed. If the violin is one that is worthy of being performed upon with skill, there is only one alternative to putting it aside as useless, that of having the neck sawn off and the whole process of renewal gone through, with the aim of next time being more careful and true. Supposing, however, the neck is truly set and all is satisfactory, the next stage will be the laying of the fingerboard. This should be of good, close and straight grained ebony, free from knots. Fingerboards are usually sold in the rough; that is, with the upper surface, or rounded part trimmed down to an approximate curve. They are cut to lengths of about ten inches and a half to three quarters. Should the violin require a fingerboard less in length than this, a small portion must be sawn off, preferably from the small end. Great care must be exercised that it is done in right angles with a central line drawn from end to end. As the drawing of this line would entail some trouble, the under, or flat surface can be placed face to face with one that is known to be quite true, and a line with a fine pointed pencil made, or better, a scratch with the point of a small knife, guided by the true end of the perfect one. A fine toothed and sharp saw will remove the unnecessary wood. In doing so, precautions must be taken against splintering and spoiling the wood. To prevent this, a piece of waste wood, cut slightly out of the square, should be placed against the stop of the bench, so that when the ebony is placed against it, the sawing can be done flush with the side of the bench. The saw should be fine, in good condition, and gently used, or the line made will be ragged, ebony being brittle and splintering stuff, requiring some humouring in this respect. If the sawing is accomplished neatly and vertically true--this last is very essential--there will be little to do in trimming the surface of the end that is to come against the nut when near completion. A piece of fine glasspaper wrapped round a squared piece of pine, will make a good surface. The reduction of the width of the fingerboard at each end will then be proceeded with. In the case of an old neck being retained, the width of it at each end can be taken by compasses and marked on the flat side of the ebony. A thin shaving should be allowed for in finishing off. But we are on the work of a new neck; therefore the marking off should be done to some general standard. A good one may be reckoned as follows, for a violin of fourteen inches long and average width--total length of fingerboard, exclusive of nut, ten and a half inches--greatest width, one inch and five-eighths, width at nut, one-sixteenth under an inch. The ebony will be planed neatly down, with vertical sides, to these measurements. The height, or rise of the sides of the fingerboard above the maple, three-sixteenths of an inch, which may be kept for the whole length. The reducing to the requisite width and depth should be done with the plane in good order, a metal one for this kind of work being the best. The surfaces that are to be glued together must now be considered. An untidy looking black line along the neck at the junction of the ebony and maple goes far to spoil the general effect; a glance at this part will at once be sufficient for declaring whether the neck and fingerboard has been fitted by a neat and competent repairer. A frequent cause of the dark line--it is really a want of proper fitting together of the parts--is the hastily planing the two surfaces--straight enough possibly--and delay while the glueing operation is in progress. The fact of ebony being almost equally affected by moisture as other woods--in fact, more so than some--must not be lost sight of. Coupled with this curling of the wood under the influence of damp is the want of proper regulation of the pressure after glueing and placing the parts in opposition. An old-fashioned method of uniting these parts is still pursued by some repairers--the surfaces are planed evenly, the glue is applied over them, they are clapped together and string tied tightly as possible. Diagram 7 will show a modern and improved method, that of a mould of soft wood for back and front of neck and fingerboard. In affixing the fingerboard many repairers have left a gouged channel reaching from the nut to the end or insertion of the neck. This may be seen sometimes on turning the part towards the light. The intention seems to be from an economical view, that of removing the ebony, if necessary, without injuring the glued surfaces by pouring a little water down the passage and waiting till the damp enables the fingerboard to be pulled off without fracture. This tedious operation is wholly unnecessary, for the time spent would be worth more than a new one with its trimming up. Some repairers have used a toothed plane on the level surfaces to enable the glue to grip well. This is another mistaken idea. The fingerboard should not be treated as a permanent part of the structure never to come undone, it should be so secured as to last as long as required under fair usage, but in case of violence it is best that it should snap clear from the neck than hold tight enough to distribute, or concentrate, the strain on other and more delicate parts of the structure. Experience has suggested the following as generally best for all practicable purposes. The surfaces having been made true under the plane--this should be tested before the parts are glued, when, if true, there will be no line or the very faintest one seen. Along the middle of the ebony a very shallow gouged channel may be made, about half-an-inch wide and just deep enough to prevent the glue from touching when the fingerboard is placed in position. The level across over this channel from side to side can be tested by a metal straight edge or truly trimmed scraper. Occasionally from damp or the action of the plane the surfaces of both maple and ebony become slightly arched; in reducing this the scraper may be used with good effect, and a smaller one to take the least shaving more off near the channel, the even pressure when applied will close the outer edges more effectually. The glue to be used under present circumstances should not be strong, and if the atmospheric temperature is below sixty, or perhaps not down to that, the surfaces of fingerboard and neck should be warmed. When all is ready, see that the ebony is placed evenly in the centre and then proceed to apply the cramps in the manner before described (diagrams 33 and 34). The one placed over the button and the arch of the fingerboard in opposition to it must be sufficiently large, and the hollowed soft wood mould, or pad, should be more highly arched than the fingerboard, so that when pressed down, the outer edges, and not the centre of the latter, should receive the greatest pressure. The other cramps having been screwed down under the same conditions, the work can be placed aside to dry and harden. When a reasonable time has elapsed, according to atmospheric conditions, as in cold, damp weather, more time should be allowed, but under all circumstances the most dry and sufficiently warm locality should be chosen; the cramps may be removed, and of course the moulds too. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 33.] [Illustration: DIAGRAM 34.] We must now see to the working down of the graft or neck, not only to the requisite dimensions, but for the finish with some effort at style. By this last is meant such attention to evenness of contour from the button along to the edging of the shell, as shall be strong enough without looking heavy or clumsy; much of the nice appearance of this portion of the work depends upon the neatness of the workman. Assuming the button to be of the normal standard, or we may say, well calculated with regard to size for good effect--a good average width of this at the base where the curved line springs from the border is thirteen-sixteenths, and the projection forward--as it is not a geometrical curve--a half an inch. Some of the old Italian makers left the button very large, others small. The latter never pleases the eye of the connoisseur, who, accustomed to the proportion given it by the best masters (also the modern makers), thinks it looks poor and incomplete. As the neck or graft has hitherto been left but roughly hewn out, it will be projecting for some little distance beyond that which would be occupied by any button of average dimensions. Supposing the button to be too small, or injured, and an addition necessary, for the next move we shall require a pair of compasses; with these, after finding a centre of the segment of a circle formed by the outer edge of the button, with the other point find the distance inward, or the proper segment that is to be retained, bearing in mind that every possible part of the original button should be preserved; putting the point of the compass on the central spot as lightly as circumstances will allow, a thin scratched line must be made with the other point. Here we may remark that screw compasses should be used, so that distance apart of the feet may be kept rigid, as the width and the same circular scratch marked on the button must now be marked on a piece of maple, or, as is sometimes done, on ebony. The grain of either should run in the same direction as that of the button, or if done aslant it will look ugly when worn a little. The materials being matched, the fresh piece should be reduced in thickness to very little over that required for the height of the edging for the button; it should be a small cake of wood large enough to cover and leave a margin where it is to be fitted. The wood of the button outside of the scratched line will now be cut away down to the raw wood of the new graft; it must be done with small and sharp chisels, carefully paring it down, leaving the edge up to the scratched line quite perpendicular and smooth all round: the strictest attention to this is necessary, so that the fitting on of the fresh edging may be done with exactness. We now take up the little cake of ebony, or maple, as selected, with the scratched line, which should be made from a central point close to the edge as possible: if this is a difficulty, the centre may be taken further in, the circular line also and the superfluous wood cut away to the central point, but not in a way to interfere with the equipoise when the edging is placed on for fitting; if this is not seen to, the edging will, when finished, look awry. The middle within the scratched line may now be first gouged away and the wood cut with a sharp knife close up to and at exact right angles with the plane. A rounded file may with care be used to make a more even surface or run. If all this is done with precision, the parts may be tried together for testing--the glueing may be seen to and the cramping done, with care that the fresh portion does not slip during the process out of its place. Some repairers would be tempted to rely upon the exact fitting, and simply slide the parts together, squeezing them well, but this is always risky. The work may now be put aside to dry. The next proceeding will be that of working down or levelling both the ebony fingerboard and the graft, or neck. The first, in the state usually sold, will have an apparently well-finished off arching that may sometimes be near enough for letting alone after a little polishing down, but as a general rule it is not so, and further, if having been long "in stock," it may have settled down a little out of the straight during the seasoning process. Recourse should be had to the plane, a rather small metal one in good order with a keen edged iron. This must be closely regulated, or the surface worked upon will not be even but torn; hard woods, as before observed, require humouring and working down gently. The exact arching--in good work--of the ebony should be governed by a cut mould, one for each end. These may be made of some hard wood or metal, such as zinc, and if truly made will last any length of time. They should be trimmed to fit some fingerboard that has been ascertained to be just the thing in its arching. It may be as well to observe that some violinists prefer using a rather flatter fingerboard than others, but the medium is without doubt the best, and is not difficult to arrive at. The plane must be gently worked along from end to end of the fingerboard with as little pressure as possible,--hence the careful regulation and sharpness,--or you will find after a short time that instead of a nice even line, which must be tested from time to time by a straight edged rule, there will be a curved one, and this will necessitate further working down to the danger of losing thickness and sufficient strength in the ebony. If attention is paid to this, and a satisfactory even run of surface is obtained, glass-paper on a piece of straight, soft wood, but not of the finest degree, will be suitable for the present. We now return to the modelling of the neck from the lower part of the back of the scroll down to the button. This last, with its fresh edging or shield, will require another scratched line, making two semi-circular ones; it must be done from the same centre and calculated to allow of the wood being hewed away outside, leaving the full measurement when finished off. A chisel will now be brought into requisition for removing the useless wood outside the line last marked. The cushion or sandbag must be brought into use, the violin put face downwards, the fingerboard resting in a hollow. The neck or most convenient part for holding the whole with firmness must be held tightly, the chisel then worked downwards from the button, but not too far so as to cut into the portion that is to gradually enlarge, or form the quarter of a circle or the thickest part of the neck. We shall now use a strong coarse wood file and turn the instrument round and about, work away the neck until just outside of what will be left when the polishing down takes place. The curves should all be balanced well even while in the rough and the contour viewed from all points should be regular. The other end of the graft will require the same kind of attention, care being taken that too much wood is not removed. The level from each end must be seen to, leaving just sufficient wood to allow for fining down; the proportions must be well calculated, thus the upper end under the nut will be hewn down thinner than the part approaching the button, the line from each end being made quite even and the curving of the semi-circular shaft gradually tapering upwards. The glass-paper file before referred to will now come into service; it should be made of a nicely-squared plate of wood about six inches in length by about two and a half inches in width, with about one third of an inch in depth. We may call one side the front, the other the back; the edges of the former should be rounded down to a semi-circular form. All we have to do in making this useful file complete is to lap a piece of glasspaper of the degree of grain required round it, nearly meeting at what may be called the back for the time being. The surface with the rounded edging, or, as we have called it, the front, covered with rather strong grained paper, will be worked to make an even course all along the shaft, guarding all the while against working too much at one spot. The paper file may, after a sufficient working along the surface, be exchanged for one or two degrees finer, rubbing it in the same manner. For good mathematically even work, the graft should be turned round frequently, so that the light may throw up any little inaccuracies that may occur and which require individual attention. Here it may be remarked that if possible all repairing would be best done in an apartment that has as little reflected light as possible. The reason for this will soon be apparent when the fining down or polishing stage is commenced. One window, and that not too large, will be found advantageous. Little irregularities, however trifling, are best seen under such a light. Much rough work may very possibly be the consequence of badly-arranged light rather than inability or indifference of the workman. Repairs executed under unfavourable circumstances as above will often look very well until turned about in fresh and different lights, as they are sure to be, and then the faultiness becomes a surprise to the executant. The glasspaper filing must be continued for some time and with several finer degrees until the surface appears perfectly even and seemingly quite finished, but the stages are not yet complete. CHAPTER VII. FINISHING THE FINGERBOARD--FIXING THE NUT--SIZE AND POSITION OF GROOVES FOR THE STRINGS--FILING DOWN THE GRAFT--SMOOTHING, COLOURING, AND VARNISHING SAME. We now turn our attention to the finish of the fingerboard, which must have its sides attended to for appearing in good trim. For making a nicely worked surface each side, some preparations will have to be made. Firstly, the nut having been cut to the width, or nearly so, of the narrowest end of the fingerboard and glued into position, it will have to be filed down to the height at which it is to remain above the end. The arching will have to be higher in the centre than at each side, in order that when the strings are drawn over tightly, the thickest, or D string, shall have more room to swing than the thinnest, or E. The arching will thus be unequal, the lowest part being at E, next a rise sufficiently for the A, then a further rise for the D, and afterwards a drop again to a little higher than the A; this will be enough for the swing of the G. The grooves for each of these strings must follow in the same order. They will not be equi-distant in one sense, as that would cause them to appear unequal when the strain is on them. Probably the best way of securing a uniform appearance and the easiest, after one good result, is to cut a metal template with a spike at the central point or middle of where the string is to rest. These points will be found unequal when pricked on to the surface of the nut. A very small, round file should now be used carefully with the run of the fingerboard, or the strings when wound up will look as if pulled aside out of the straight line. The file must be placed exactly on the spot that has been pricked and worked backward and forward as indicated. The ruts must be examined frequently for ascertaining whether they are sufficiently deep. The height of each rut above the fingerboard cannot well be given in fractions of an inch, as they must be regulated to the convenience of the performer. A hard, rasping, orchestral player, with a heavy, unsympathetic bow arm, will require the ruts higher above the board than a soloist of refined taste. The relative heights, one with another, must be the same in both cases. When the ruts are finished, recourse must be had to the glasspaper file again to round the top surface of the nut with an inclination downwards toward the peg-box. This is an arrangement requiring care, as, when the nut is level with the fingerboard, there is danger of the strings jarring. When finished sufficiently even the ruts may require a little further attention, as it is difficult to at once complete them. The two parts are perhaps best worked one with another, neither being finished off in one working and left. We may now proceed to the further progress of the sides of the fingerboard; this, of course, can only be done when all is settled about the nut, this part requiring to be a continuation, notwithstanding the rise upward of the line from end to end. Preparation must be made for guarding the upper table of the violin from injury, from slips of the glasspaper file during the backward and forward movement. A good way to prevent this is to make a millboard or thick brown paper shield with a part cut away to allow the neck to have a hold. By putting this over the upper table and underneath the fingerboard a part will project forward on each side of the neck; it must be held in position by one hand, while the other holds the paper file, which will be worked along the sides of the fingerboard, at the same time being held nearly vertical. After some little time the part where the ebony joins the graft will appear worked down quite smooth, some finer degrees of the paper will reduce the surface to almost a polish. The nut receiving a part of the working will now present an appearance--as regards form only--of having been left from a reduction of the fingerboard stopping short at a straight line. This part now, if the fitting of the fingerboard to the graft has been neatly done, will show no line of glue or joint, but simply the difference of material. The upper edges of the ebony may be rounded down along to the end, but less at the lowest. The whole affair, however, is not yet complete, as the surface to be varnished must be made ready for it. If left in the present condition, players who are very fastidious would be complaining of the work not standing well or deteriorating under use. The cause of this deterioration will be that the moisture from the hand in using this part of the instrument in the raw state makes the grain swell as if wetted; this would occur to some extent even if fully varnished. This must therefore be anticipated by passing a soft, fully haired and wetted brush, or damp sponge, over the whole of the new work. When dry the whole surface will appear rough, or if of soft texture, somewhat corrugated; this must again be levelled down with some of the finest glasspaper, great care being taken that all the parts, and angles especially, are worked over. If the corners are not equally attended to with the rest--and to do this properly the angle of the steel scraper may be used with good effect--there will be a roughness at the part over which the varnish will settle, become rough when dry, and give the appearance of untidy corners. If the scraper with right angles is insufficient to clear the corner satisfactorily, one with a rather acute angle will be found to do the work; it must be sharp, and gently used (or ridges small, large, or both, will become evident), working across first one way then the other until the appearance is quite up to the exactions and desire of the eye. Another wetting will be of some further benefit for a good and lasting surface. When dry the roughness will not be so obtrusive as in the first instance, and the application of the finest grain of glasspaper, or a piece that has been under use for some time and got a little stale will give the desired surface. The action of the glasspaper over the surface should be continued for some time, until there being less and less powder routed up the surface, it assumes a polished appearance, and if the whole work is well done it will suggest a kind of finish that looks too good to spoil by covering up with varnish. But the latter is a necessity; if not really varnish in the usual sense of the term, a substitute must be used, and here we touch a little upon the confines of fashion or individual fancy. It may not be generally known that the old Italian makers--I mention these as they have always been looked up to as guides for almost everything in connection with violin facture--varnished the whole of the neck--which under present circumstances we call the graft--with the same varnish and thickness of it as the rest of the instrument. We never see such a thing now, and if a maker were to send forth his new violins in this manner or trim, he would be looked upon as eccentric. Nevertheless at one time it was universal. Probably the increased number of movements of the hand, and especially the thumb, to meet the requirements of more florid execution and in connection with the growth of the ability among players for performing much music on the higher positions or shifts, showed very soon how the coloured varnish looked patchy under wear. This fashion of covering over the most handled part of the instrument with the coloured varnish then became discarded. "Appearances must be preserved" was found to be an axiom almost forced upon the makers and repairers, and, as time went on, the substitution of strongly curled wood for necks or grafts, in place of the plainer material hitherto used, gradually settled down into the present fashion. Now-a-days the skill of the repairer is exercised in the various treatment of this part. Players vary in their tastes or whims, some liking a perfectly smooth or polished surface as more suitable to their handling than what they understand as an unvarnished neck, others like it the other way as not so likely to slip, there being a little more hold or resistance. Anyhow, the raw wood cannot be left simply glass-papered, this would be speedily followed in use by an accumulation of dirt and grease unpleasant to the eye, and to the touch, clammy and unwholesome. It will therefore be as well to consider the two modes of treatment. In either case the parts of the graft near the insertion in the socket and at the other end where the peg-box is fitted will require varnishing down. Before active operations commence a fair examination should be made of the colour or complexion of the body of the violin. Very often this has no attention paid to it, with the result of a hideous contrast between the neck and the ribs adjoining, a sign of bad workmanship and carelessness. The materials at hand for making a good match must then be thought over, the most appropriate selected and the number of coats, if possible, determined upon. This latter will be taken in a general sense, as an exact number will not be possible; appearances are in this process deceptive and must be regulated by the exigencies of the moment, but what can be calculated is the question of one or two applications only (which would result in a cheap and common appearance) or a number with the same materials carefully laid to the satisfaction of the repairer. Without plunging into the whirlpool of the best or particular gums, resins and their individual mode of application, a matter that will take up hereafter our more undivided attention, it may be taken as a certainty that the varnishing materials used for the parts under consideration must be of an alcoholic solution, no other would "set," evaporate or dry with sufficient rapidity to allow of handling: or, as we may put it in another way, that would lose tackiness within a convenient time. Most people are aware of the nature of an oil varnish during the drying process, there is firstly the "setting," that is, all the volatile particles dispersing; secondly, the real drying or hardening which ensues with sufficient time or age; both accompanied with some degree of contraction, and until the process is complete, handling or friction of any kind has to be carefully avoided. This will at once show its unsuitableness for repairs and restorations, especially of the kind now under consideration. The same process has to be gone through in the drying of a spiritous or alcoholic varnish, but it is so much the more rapid in consequence of there being only the alcohol to disperse, leaving the resin in a comparatively dry state. Colouring will be the chief consideration after the resin has been selected, and on this the judgment of the operator will have to be centred. For obtaining the effect desired or that is fashionable at the present day, one or two coats or paintings will be commenced at the corners where the graft is inserted in the upper ribs and gradually being thinned off as the curved part rounding upwards from the button dies away. Sometimes in consequence of the fresh wood appearing very white--it is not always possible to obtain aged wood--some colouring material or stain mixed with the first two wettings will subdue the staring aspect, this may be continued along the graft and bring up the figure or curl more prominently. Often between the curves each end of the graft repairers force very strong stain, this being sometimes common writing ink; when varnished over the effect is violent and common even when nicely done. The best that can be recommended is some sufficiently dark wood stain--sold at most of the oil and colourmen's shops--and rub it in, allowing it to dry and then finishing off as before described. If the neck is to be left unvarnished, as it is termed, the colouring and fining off can be followed with a rubbing of good oil, linseed, raw or boiled, it must be really rubbed in and vigorously frictioned up and down with a dry cloth--or after an application of the same kind with some old fine flannel. This will drive in the oil, consolidating the whole, and as it will dry inside after a time, keep a good smooth surface under usage. Some repairers continue to varnish or polish along the sides of the fingerboard to the extremity. There is no objection to this, and if very neatly done, the general effect is enhanced. The varnishing of the whole of the fingerboard is perhaps not so good in general, too much glare seeming to obtrude itself, but the filling up the pores with the varnish and then working it down to a dull surface has a good effect and helps in the resistance to wear. The polishing of the neck, or fingerboard with it, may be effected by making a small ball or dabber of about half an inch in diameter of fine grained flannel; this should be covered with another surface of closer material such as calico, but large enough to enclose the little bunch and to be tied up with a piece of string. A portion of varnish being placed ready in a smaller saucer or any convenient porcelain article with a shallow even bottom, the ball or dabber will be moistened with some linseed oil and then its rounded face dipped in the varnish and rubbed briskly, but lightly, over the surfaces to be polished. These surfaces rapidly absorb the polish, while the oil in the dabber allows it to pass over without clinging. The rubbing should be continued until a smooth, glassy appearance comes and you feel sure that the wood has imbibed enough of the polish; this treatment may be continued over all the parts at which it may be desirable to have an even shining surface. The work may now be put aside for some hours, so that the evaporating and hardening may take place. When this has been ascertained to be satisfactory, the surfaces may be wiped gently with some soft, absorbent material which will take away any superfluous particles of oil that may have been accidentally left in the process of rubbing. If there should be some uneven, clotted, or rough parts observable, a small ball or dabber made in the same way as the preceding, but used with spirit and oil instead of varnish, will work these down to a proper condition. For the dead surfacing, care must be taken that all is quite hard enough. Taking a small piece of flannel of fine texture doubled up and with its face well oiled, having some rotten-stone powder at hand, dip in the latter and rub as before lightly round and round over the parts to be dead polished; this will give a nice refined, even appearance, with comparatively little glare. A final wipe off with a soft cloth as before, will bring matters to a conclusion. CHAPTER VIII. INJURIES THAT CAN BE REPAIRED FROM THE OUTSIDE--INSERTION OF FRESH WOOD IN FRACTURE OF THE RIBS--THE EFFECTS OF CLIMATE ON THE GLUE IN VIOLINS. We may now take this portion of the work as finished and turn to the consideration of repairs of fractures or filling up of parts last. It is early yet to think of opening the instrument for the purpose of rectification of anything that appears to have gone wrong either with the general structure or with small details. A golden rule to be observed by all repairers is that of never opening an instrument--that is removing the upper or lower table--until all other means of correction have proved futile. Extensive repairs to the interior may be accomplished without opening after a very careful look over with proper calculation. There are several reasons for keeping the above rule well in mind, among them, that if the violin is old and has undergone much affliction while under the hands of many doctors, some of these possibly belonging to the "heroic school," it may be found that the last visitant of the interior had straightened, bent, or contracted and held some of the parts together while the glue was in process of drying and that sufficient time had not elapsed since the occurrence for the strained parts to settle down under their new condition. An opening of the violin, removal of upper or lower table or any large portion, must be undertaken after due consideration and every precaution has been taken that nothing shall be disturbed if the reparation can be accomplished without. An opening of the instrument for the purpose of one repair may lead to the necessity of half a dozen before closing up again. Our opening ceremony will therefore be postponed until a future occasion, and we will confine ourselves to the consideration of such external injuries of ancient or recent origin that may be with the least inconvenience restored to ordinary health or even strength. The numbers of such and their varieties are more than can be related, the curious manner of their occurrence, too, would be an addition that would indefinitely prolong the story. Taking, therefore, small injuries or fractures that can be repaired from the outside, among the first coming to mind and not infrequently seen, is at the corners, a small piece of the projecting part of the rib--one of the upper or lower sets; this may have caught against something and got lifted away from the block, it may be on one side or the other, in size perhaps little more than an eighth of an inch, but all the same requiring immediate attention, or dirt will get in and make an adjourned repair more difficult if not wholly impossible to obscure. According to the condition, age and date of the injury, so the treatment must be. If the injury is quite recent and the fractures are quite clean, some good thick glue placed on the exposed surface and the lifted piece placed back in position may remain there with no further attention than the wiping off when dry of any superfluous glue that may have exuded when pressing the part on. This has been a simple matter, but if the part knocked away is lost, a different course must be pursued. As it would be impossible to find a piece of fresh wood to fit a ragged or irregular-shaped hollow, there is but one method to proceed upon, that of clearing a regular space with a sharp pointed knife. The walls of the space or opening should be as clean in line as possible, also quite vertical. A small keen-edged chisel may be found advantageous, as, by its aid, using it with the angular or sharpened side downwards, the floor of the excavation can be reduced to a fair level. This hollowing-out should not be too deep, leaving as much as possible of the bare wood uncut, only enough being removed for a good holding surface. If this is done neatly, the opening will be like that of a box into which will be fitted the fresh wood. As to this last it should be selected to match both with regard to texture and age whenever possible, also in continuation of the run of the grain, so that when fitted it should look as much like the surrounding wood as possible, that is, when free of varnish. In cutting the wood to the required size it should not, as in the instance of the aperture, be made with perfectly upright sides, but the parts that are to go into the aperture should be a fraction less than the outer, so as to allow of its being pressed in and fitting very closely all round. As the parts under consideration lie in the curved parts on the structure, to fit a piece in with success, it should also be bent with a requisite curve; if this is not attended to, and the clear varnish comes over it when being finished off, there will be a glistening of the grain underneath when shifted about in the light. To avoid this, which is apt to draw attention to the repaired parts, a larger piece of veneer than necessary should be first bent into the proper curve and the part nearly small enough cut from it and then made to fit. The bending of the piece can be effected by steeping it in some hot water, pressing it into form; being but a small portion, it will probably retain its inclination; if large enough and obstinate it must be kept bent by some means until dry, when it will show no disposition to revert back to its old form. If these particulars are all attended to with care, the piece of wood or veneer will only require a little pressure--the opening being gone over with strong glue--to retain its form in proper position. In case of failure under these conditions and the parts not holding together as they should, another course must be adopted. It will be most likely that some grease is the cause of the non-adherence of the parts. The remedy will be that of using a little benzine on a brush and wiping or mopping out with a small piece of linen on the end of a pointed stick of soft wood, after which, when quite dry, some fresh glue must be applied, and the parts pressed together and held in position. Ingenuity and the perception of the adaptation of means to an end will constantly be called into exercise, and at a part of the instrument such as is at present under consideration, will be often severely taxed. Want of purchase or no direct pressure being possible, or at least perceptible, will be the complaint of the operator, but this can always be overcome with a little patience. Now supposing that a piece has come off at the upper part of the waist curve, and if narrow or the curve is sudden it will at first sight be a little puzzling as to keeping pressure on the fresh part, even if cut sharply and ready to be deftly inserted. The difficulties will be considerably lessened, if not disposed of, if we take up a portion of soft pine or poplar, cut it in a moment or two to shape, so as to very loosely fit the upper curve or part we are about to glue, and not quite reaching the lower or usually larger curve of the waist; a small piece of cork placed between the wood to be inserted and that which is to press it while in position and another piece of cork of a wedge form can be squeezed in at the other end, so as to prevent the varnish being injured and to tighten the pressure, which will not be necessarily great if the fitting is good. Another kind of repair not unfrequently necessary, and which should not be delayed, is caused by the parting of the two ribs at the angle, in consequence often of accidental knocks and over weak glue. This is a more difficult part at which to get direct pressure than almost any part of the instrument. Many repairers would lift up the loose part or parts, both being occasionally loose, brush a little glue in, squeeze the parts together and leave them. When dry the ends will under this treatment seldom be found to meet properly as in their original condition. The best mode of repairing will be found that of proceeding by degrees, overcoming the enemy in detail. Thus firstly, we must observe whether the junction or construction of this part has been effected in the old Brescian manner--that is, the two equal parts being brought together, or according to the later method, the end of the middle rib being placed in position first, trimmed to a feather edge and the upper left thick and slightly overlapping it and afterwards trimmed into shape. In both instances the under surfaces must be cleaned and all the hard old glue softened and cleared out, if unfractured the surfaces of both corner block and rib fitting will be as originally left by the maker. In either style of construction it will be best to proceed first with the middle rib and support or prop it against the block in the way before mentioned. When quite dry we can remove the pressure and get to work at the other. After being quite sure that no hard glue or foreign particles remain between the surfaces to prevent a perfect fit as in the original condition, a small mould cut from soft wood again and of a size and shape that will fit loosely the semi-circular part must be cut, and some soft paper got ready to go between as a protection for the varnished part. If the parts are not much worn away, or the front and back plates are in fair condition, the rib may be glued and the screw cramp, cork or paper of course being used as a protector, and the rib will be held in position. If this is not sufficient for getting a close and accurate fit, the soft wood mould mentioned above must be placed, and a slight pressure gained by a wedge of wood gently inserted and pressed home. This mode of repair, it will be borne in mind, is when the upper and lower plates are in fairly good condition. Different treatment would be adopted if both were separated or the upper one taken off. Sometimes the cramping, although sufficient for getting a good mend where there is a good extent of surface, will not be quite the thing for a small part, perhaps a slight opening at the extreme edge; in this instance a wooden mould, cut in a few minutes from a flat board large enough to allow of an oval aperture being made that will admit of the body of the violin being passed through. This being done and a small wedge being here and there judiciously inserted, will enable the operator to get enough purchase, or advantage may be taken of the juxtaposition of the cramp, and using both to gain the requisite pressure against the bend of the rib in the manner before mentioned. There are as a matter of course extremely numerous kinds of fractures or injuries arising from almost as many different causes. If time and space permitted, they might be classified and each credited to their different agencies. Sufficient for our purpose, however, will be the separation of them into three divisions: firstly, those which may be the outcome or result of ordinary wear and giving way of parts through atmospheric influence, such as damp or excessive dryness, or both at times, in combination with varying temperature. People are apt to debit the climate of Britain with many shortcomings and the cause of much undoing of good work in the fiddle world and the prevention of its being accomplished in the concluding stages of fiddle facture. Much of the good quality attached to Italian instruments has been attributed to the beautiful and dry air of Italy. Now that Italy has beautiful air no one can deny, that is, while not standing in the streets of some of the most interesting cities therein, but that it is dry generally is perhaps going beyond the mark; remember it is a very mountainous place with some exceptional portions, this may be easily verified by a glance over a good map of the place, or better, a tour by railway from the northern provinces down as far as Naples. Knowledge is fairly general as to mountainous districts, much more than plains, being the localities where rain is most frequent, the more or less saturation of the atmosphere following as a matter of course. But let Italian fiddles speak for themselves, otherwise than through the medium of gut strings. The first makers of violins in Brescia used no side linings, but trusted to the most excellent quality of their glue for holding back and front to the ribs. That their trust was not misplaced in many instances is proved by the work in its primitive condition remaining intact to the present day. With the rise of the Cremonese school, delicacy in treatment of detail became fashionable; makers found that in order to give expression to their ideas in as many particulars as possible over the work, especially in respect of refinement in the curving of the ribs, less thickness of wood in these parts would have to be used, especially when of very decided curl; but this would not hold well except in the driest districts. The system was then introduced of using the thin slips of wood running from block to block; the thickness of these, although slight, added to the thin substance of the rib, allowed a better holding power to back and front. The fact is here evident that the glue, of exceeding good quality--and that it was so will be corroborated by all repairers who have had to do with the old Italian instruments--was too easily affected by the damp of the atmosphere. Further evidence frequently turns up among the great numbers of old Italian instruments gathered from all sorts of places, of the efforts at combating the effects of damp. Some of the means adopted by various repairers, apparently in the smaller towns--judging by the bad, even extraordinary woods used--have been very curious, many interesting, others primitive, even stupid. At about the same time the Amatis were introducing the use of side-linings, Giov. Maggini was trying other means of preventing the parting of the upper and lower tables from the ribs by damp. A method he adopted, and which many later makers imitated--if it did not occur to them spontaneously--was by cutting a groove all round and inserting the ribs. It will be obvious from this that no linings were used in these instances. That his efforts were not followed by success may be concluded from the fact that he did not persevere with the system. The simple method of his master was fallen back upon and thicker ribs placed in position. When we come across one of those grooved tables it will probably be found--as might have been anticipated by Maggini had he known beforehand of the course to be taken by his art, which was at the time almost a local one--that a repairer has at one time thought it necessary to lift the ribs from one or the other plate, and almost, of course, bungled over it. This will be seen in the irregularity of the fitting of the ribs, which have been ruthlessly cut or torn out of the groove, some portions being left in. Taking them out was found to be unprofitable work, with a general result of a wretched wreck remaining, instead of the whole original being there but shifted a little, from the glue losing its hold while perishing from the action of moisture. CHAPTER IX. THE GLUE USED BY THE EARLY ITALIAN MAKERS--INSERTION OF PIECES OF WOOD FOR REPAIRING LOST PARTS--REPLACING LOST RIB AND REPAIRING INTERIOR WITHOUT OPENING WHEN POSSIBLE--SECURING LOOSE LOWER RIB TO END BLOCK--DIFFERENT METHODS--TREATMENT OF WORM-HOLES--FIXING ON GRAFT ON NECK. Here, before proceeding further, it may be as well to call attention to the kind of damage done by the atmosphere. We speak of the glue perishing. Under most circumstances this will not occur, but under exceptional ones it will. If good in the first instance, it will be perfectly sound and strong as ever at the end of three hundred years. I have found this to be so in the work of Gasparo da Salo and his pupil, Giovanni Paolo Maggini, besides other makers nearly contemporary. What particular kind of glue they used I am unable to say, possibly they did not know very much more themselves beyond what they believed was the best obtainable in their day and city. When the perishing has occurred there must have been very much moisture in the atmosphere of the locality in which the violin rested for some time, as the best glue will absorb the most moisture before losing its firmness, or power of adherence. Prolonged exposure to damp allows chemical change to take place and then all adhesive quality is lost; when dry air afterwards attacks it, the parts of the instrument that should have been held firmly together are released, with results that may be serious in degree according to the position of the part affected. To continue the consideration of the repair of a violin that has been constructed with grooves for holding the ribs. A long and troublesome piece of work would be the loosening and taking away of the fragments of rib inserted in the groove and cut away by some repairer from the rest or standing rib; it is therefore preferable in ordinary and neat repairing to clear the parts that may be ragged or begrimed, firstly, by washing with a stiff brush of appropriate size and wiping with a clean cotton rag repeatedly; when the rag ceases to be soiled or discoloured after wiping, the parts may be taken as fairly clean. A sharp knife will take off any projections that may be prominent and prevent the proper placing of the rib in position; if the irregularities give indication of fitting well, the parts may have at their approaching edges a touching with strong, hot glue, and the cramps with protection applied as before for other joinings. The probabilities, however, are, that through bad treatment, added to wear and tear, the parts will not fit under any circumstances, then the only course will be to make an even surface at the part broken away, and then fit a piece of fresh wood therein. If the aperture made is not of large extent and not wide, or more than the thickness of an average piece of veneer is required, then the fresh wood need not be bent, but cut neatly for fitting, and after glueing, as usual, slipped in with a part projecting beyond the surrounding surface. When quite dry it may be pared down carefully with a sharp knife, or if not manageable on the curve of the rib, a chisel of size according to the amount of room; being a narrow slip, after the colouring down and varnishing has taken place, it will be but slightly noticeable. The same treatment can, of course, be adopted for either upper or lower part of the rib; the middle rib position will give the most trouble, owing to its concavity, but care and patience will overcome the difficulties of the situation. Should there have happened an accident by which a hole of some extent is rent in the ribs--either upper, lower, or middle--it is not absolutely necessary that the instrument be opened to accomplish the repair; bear in mind the advice given before, not to open a violin which has been in good going order if the repair can be effected without. As we are presumably working on disabled violins that are valuable, perhaps old friends, or interesting specimens of a particular school, to select the best mode of restoration is our aim. For this purpose we will call to our aid some low class violin, new or old, that is of no value except for our purpose. If several are within reach we can select one with wood that matches as near as possible the one under process of restoration. Being already bent to shape, a portion may be found somewhere about it, that with a little exercise of judgment can be cut out to shape, and as in manner pointed out before, be placed over the aperture of the fracture. Care must be taken that it quite covers the part, while being likely to fit sufficiently well as regards figure or curl and direction of grain. The sides cleanly cut should not be quite vertical with the general plane, the inner surface being a shade smaller than the outer, thus enabling the operator, with a little pressure, to insert it, when glued, quite neatly. No instructions or suggestions with regard to fitting will counterbalance clumsiness of handling. In operations of this kind, delicacy of handling equal to anything required in watch repairing will be obligatory, that is if restoration of a high class is intended. It would be impossible to deal with, touch upon, or even to recount every possible injury to a violin that might be repaired without the removal of the upper table, but there are still some remaining that will be worth considering, if only for the purpose of restraining the tendency to open the instrument upon too trivial a pretext. One instance occurs to memory at the present moment, in which a violin, the constant companion and closest friend of its owner, met with an accident that seemed to him well-nigh total destruction, at any rate, necessitating much renewal with undoing and plastering up of fractures. To the fiddle physician it was promptly taken, carefully scanned, and the owner told that it would be all right in a few days. Will it have to be taken all to pieces? asked the anxious owner. Not if it can be possibly helped, was the reply. The violin was called for in due time, and in answer to inquiries it was fetched and seen to be in as good going order as before the time of the accident. There was no apparent evidence of damage, no sign of fracture or any neatly-laid patches, there were the ribs as sound as when new, no cracks to be seen. How did you manage that? said the owner, and you say there was no necessity to take the front off? Easier far, replied the repairer, the more there is left undisturbed the more assistance will these parts give you during the progress of restoration, and as you seem curious and desirous of solving the mystery of this renovation I will relate how it was accomplished. You are no doubt fully aware that your violin is of a size and shape well-known in the trade as a "Strad pattern;" well, there are thousands of violins in any number of degrees of quality similar in form and size, in fact, for us modern makers there are too many about. Catching the peculiarities of pattern with my eye at a glance, the difficulties to be overcome were not very numerous or great. I saw there was no reunion of parts of the ribs to be thought of, as they had gone, and your violin being a modern copy of ordinary pretensions, it would not serve our purpose to join four-fifths of new rib to the remainder, and so to make a clean and satisfactory renovation a fresh rib would best answer. Taking down from a shelf a number of loose parts of violins put aside for such occasions as the present, I soon found a middle rib that matched in most particulars those of your violin. It had the additional advantage of being better for the keeping, as regards colour or looking less new. The first proceeding was to clear out all the useless fragments of the spoiled rib, search every corner and see that there were no splinters left, and remove projecting particles of glue. All edges that were to come in contact with the fresh rib were washed, and where permissible, the surfaces made even by a slight levelling, finely shaving them with a sharp tool. The fresh rib was then tried, and being of full size and requiring more than the least pressure to get it placed, some little shaving down here and there was found necessary, and when done it was tried again carefully and repeated perhaps three or four times, when all parts seemed to fit sufficiently well. Each time the rib was inserted there was, of course, nothing projecting whereby it might be withdrawn; to accomplish this, a bent wire of sufficient strength passed through the most distant of the two sound holes gave it a push out again. When the piece was found to fit with accuracy, little remained to do beyond glueing the edges that were to come together, and after seeing that every part was in right position, the screw cramps were applied with sufficient force and no more, the superfluous glue wiped away and the whole left to itself. When sufficient time had been allowed for drying, the cramps were removed, a little cleaning of parts effected and the fresh work varnished in a manner so as to match nearly as possible with the rest of the instrument, and there you have your violin with a fresh rib inserted without removing anything but the damaged part. It was really, as you may have perceived, the easiest way of working the thing, there being no secondary process to be gone through, nothing but cramping down, varnishing and finishing off. Another instance comes to my mind of what can be done in the way of alteration of the interior without removing the upper table. It came within my own experience many years back, and the violin was one owned by myself at the time. It had got into a condition not unfrequently seen after bad repairing, that of the fingerboard sinking down too near the table through absence of proper support or sufficient grip of the end of the table where the neck is inserted. Being unable to attend to the matter myself at the time, I sought the aid of a friend living close by, a clever amateur violin maker and mechanical constructor of other things beside. He was not very long setting matters right, and my violin seemed in no danger of further getting into disorder from the same cause. I asked him how he had managed the rectification of the matter; did he take the upper table off? "Oh no, without that. I simply opened or loosened the left side of the table about and above the upper corner, then, having cut and glued a slight thin wedge-shaped piece of wood, through the narrow opening caused by the loosening of the table, I passed it on a thin knife long enough to reach to the upper block, between which and the part of the upper table which was not holding I carefully thrust it and tucked it in, finally glueing and cramping again the part of the table that I had purposely loosened." This was a clever operation, successful but very risky, and not to be lightly undertaken by anyone without much experience and even natural ability for mechanical adaptation of means to an end. There was much danger, from the narrowness of the approach to the work from the side opening, of missing the mark and dropping the piece of wood with great difficulty of recovery, and, further, the chance of cracking the upper table by straining the opening for the admission of knife and wedge of wood. I heard of the violin but a few days since, and have no reason to suppose there has been occasion to have any further repairs done. Among other mishaps occurring at times, and which from their position seem difficult to remedy, is that of the lower rib becoming detached, or losing its hold on the block; this is more liable to take place when there is a join running up and past the tail pin hole. Both sides may be loose or one only. When, as in a great many of the old Italian violins, the rib is continuous, it very seldom gets detached. Here the advantage of simplicity of construction is made evident. The rib being of one piece running round the lower end right past the tail pin was not, as too often supposed, done for a saving of time by one operation, but for strength and neatness. When in two parts, sometimes with a piece of purfling inserted--each side is subject to damage either by the tampering with the tail pin, the nut above, or during repeated removals of the upper table. Exposure to damp will, as a matter of course, affect the original glueing of these parts as soon as any other. The detachment from the block may remain unnoticed for some length of time, until getting worse by degrees one part may be seen to be lifted or warped away from the join. If without this appearance suspicion is aroused in some way as to looseness, it can be verified or not with little trouble by tapping with a felt-headed piano-hammer, when the sound, which should be quite solid, will, on the contrary, be rattling. Seemingly the repair of this part is an awkward matter from the absence of any purchase for pressing the parts and retaining them in position when freshly glued. The difficulty is more apparent than real, as there are several ways of overcoming this obstacle. To begin with one. The tail pin will, of course, be removed; if fitting rather tightly and of good length, use may be made of it. As usual all the parts to be glued must be cleansed by a brush and clean water, sopping up the moisture after each application, pressing repeatedly the loose parts until they seem to be clean enough. A piece of soft pine or poplar will now be cut that will be just wide enough to go easily over the parts lying over the block and which of course cover all the loose parts that require fixing: it may be a trifle under a quarter of an inch in thickness. One side must be shaped to fit the parts over the block when pressed against them and should be a sort of mould. A hole will now be pierced to admit the cylindrical part of the tail pin, or if not long enough, a made substitute with a similar rim. It should be tried by passing it through to the tail pin hole, and if it fits tight enough to sustain itself against some pulling we can proceed. The fit should be close enough so that when the peg is passed through the hole in the mould and the latter pressed by this means against the rib or the two parts on to the block, all should be held firmly in position. Taking them apart again, strong glue should be applied by a brush to the surfaces that will meet or be worked in as when the cleansing was going on. The peg and the mould--with a piece of paper on its face to prevent adhesion--may then be pressed in to hold tight until hard and dry. The same method may be pursued with the exception that in place of the peg a screw--if one is to hand large enough--may be inserted. In this case it should be a very loose fit to the hole, the grip will be obtained by rolling up a piece of paper and inserting it in the tail pin hole, the screw can then be used against this inside without damaging the block. Another way of accomplishing the desired result will be by a stout leather strap and buckle passed round over all the ribs of the instrument; the same sort of mould will be used and applied in the same manner. The strap will need holding in position at the upper or neck end over the button, a string over the fingerboard will be sufficient; at the other end over the mould a wedge of soft wood according to size will enable the pressure towards the block to be regulated. Another contrivance with the same mould, for this must always be used, is by getting a wire with a turned or screwed end fitted with a head or nut, the other end can be bent to right angles, but not too much length used or it will not go through the tail pin hole. When in position, having been passed through the hole in the mould, the right angled or bent end will catch against the inner surface of the block, the head or nut being then screwed round will tighten and press the mould towards the block with enough grip for the purpose if all the rest is in proper order. Should these contrivances not be to hand or are found inconvenient, yet another method is that of using the screw-cramp. A portion of mill-board or cork being placed to protect the parts of the upper and lower table between which the end block is situated, the screw can be turned tight enough to allow of a wedge of wood being inserted between the back of the cramp and the mould without risk of shifting; it can then be left until dry and hard. Occasionally there will be not only the detachment from the block, but there will be the accompaniment of a split in the rib. There will be in this instance a preliminary cleansing of the split and joining together before proceeding with the other part. The reason for doing this is that the pressure on towards the block is apt to widen instead of closing the crack. The most usual way of mending a crack, or there may be more than one, is by the use of a small hand vice. A piece of stout card placed between the teeth of the vice to prevent an imprint, the part to be joined will, after cleaning and glueing, be brought closely as possible together and the vice screwed up. For this process the help of another person will be almost absolutely necessary, as two hands will be required for holding the parts together while the second person holds the vice and turns the screw to order. When dry and unscrewed the parts joined will require a little scraping of the superfluous glue, washing away at a thin part as this is would be dangerous; if brought together neatly the rib can then be pressed on the block in the manner before explained. The same process will be gone through when a portion of fresh rib has to be inserted at this part, owing to loss of a piece through violence or the ravages of the worm. In the latter case searching inquiry should be made with a pointed wire or pin and the direction of the boring operations ascertained, as it may be necessary to insert a larger piece than was originally intended to avoid a large smash or general collapse at the part where the greatest strength should be. There is often too great a tendency shown in repairing, especially in preparation for the market, as, for instance, when an old master has been unearthed in some farmhouse or out of the way place on the Continent, to make a clean sweep of a somewhat riddled part, the repairer trusting too much to his imitative powers on new wood with new varnish, and we may say with new ideas on old facts; it is seldom that the result is far from hideous. Better trace the tortuous course of a whole family of worms and fill up with a cement or plugging than, as is too often the case, cut a huge slice away, for if so the instrument according to the extent begins to assume a composite character, it may be ten out of twelve parts gem of an old master and two parts modern trash, hateful to the eye of the connoisseur. While touching upon the subject of worm-holes, a few words more may not be out of place when contemplating the ravages of these voracious creatures. Almost all devotees to the "gentle art" of fiddling have a great horror of the possible presence or the ungauged depths of the mysterious tunnellings the entrance or exit to which will cause a start of dismay in a searcher after the beautiful, when, in an otherwise perfectly preserved specimen of art by one of the giants of old, his eye alights upon that sharply defined circular hole, cut with no uncertainty of purpose, but with a ruinous intent, for it is business with the boring party to consume the whole, if possible, at its leisure and in quietude. This last is an important item in the consideration of the circumstances under which the "gem of art, old master, Cremona, real Strad," or whatever title the wooden structure may have been sailing under. Those who have suffered much from the Italian fiddle-hunting mania--a condition mostly chronic or quite incurable--but who may have kept their "considerating cap" well poised on their head, will know that the worm-eaten fiddles are often devoid of evidence of usage, sometimes even in the absolute sense of the term. Such a one we may suppose before us now; after lying neglected for generations, or since the time when it was bought by one of our periwigged ancestors from the maker, perhaps after a little haggling about the price, which most likely was one hundredth part of its commercial value at present. It was placed many years since in its present comfortable case, after being taken out of the old ragged leather covered one, with the brass nails along its side. Tradition has it that in long bye-gone days it used to hang suspended from a nail in the oak panelling of the "old house at home," but that during a more recent generation and less musical one, it was placed aside in the old case, as being somewhat interesting from having been brought over to England from some place in Italy during the reign of James II. Later on it was taken from this old case, and placed in one of modern construction, and occasionally was taken out for musical people to see, some of whom expressed their admiration for its elegant form, others for the singular transparency of its varnish. None had come forward with the request to hear what it had to say for itself or what its tone was. But the day came round at last when someone more inquisitive than usual, by nature as well as by training, having inquired as to the possibility of seeing the antiquity, was afforded the rare opportunity and treat of seeing a perfectly preserved Cremona, nearly as possible untouched; the connoisseur was informed that no one had been known to have played upon it. The case is brought forward and opened, the violin, with perhaps one very brown string dangling from it, is taken gently up, the left hand encircling the neck, while the forefingers and thumb of the right, hold the lower part near the tail-piece. The violin is turned first one way, then the other, and sideways for viewing the ribs and the beautiful play of light through the varnish, the fine curl of the maple with the slightest movement, almost giving an impression of hastily shifting from one row to another, in fact, looking as if the wood were gifted with life. Steadily turning it about, the connoisseur at last breaks out with the exclamation, this is the most wonderful thing I have met with in my life, it is almost perfect, practically new, looks, perhaps, but a dozen years old. What a beautiful design, what colour, and splendid wood, both the pine and maple, the workmanship, too, having that wonderful freedom of handling which moderns find so impassable a barrier to success with their "imitations of the antique!" Lost in admiration for some minutes, the connoisseur's critical faculties after a while begin to assert themselves, and he is on the look out for flaws or defects that may mar the completeness of the whole; it might be a little more this or that with advantage, not quite so fine in one respect, although perhaps better in another than the one owned by his friend Smith; but oh! a wormhole! that settles it, done for! perhaps the thing is riddled, or even "honeycombed" in parts. The delight at finding a work of art in apparently so perfect condition is succeeded by a more than counterbalancing sense of frustrated hopes, schemes for acquisition of the gem being dissipated at once by that small circular opening just at the under part of the edging there near the corner. Our friend takes his departure, but cannot help talking of the "find" to the dealer and repairer of whom he purchases his strings. This person takes another view of the affair, and resolves to see the thing and perhaps acquire possession, so that like his customer, he gets permission to inspect the violin. It is brought out as in the other instance and he turns it about, gives it a sly pinch here and there, looks for any light coloured dust or powder inside and does not see any, a shake or two with the same result. The subject of parting with the instrument at a fair price is at length broached to the owner, who would like to know what Mr. ---- would be prepared to give for it, but this party means business and not valuation gratis for the owner; he therefore dilates upon the difficulties attending the keeping of a large stock of such articles, besides the thing having been bored so much by worms can never take its place again among prominent examples of the maker, and it would want a lot of playing upon even if possibly well restored. Mr. ---- finally departs as owner of a finely preserved Cremona violin, not exactly for a "mere song," but a few judiciously selected sentences and fewer pounds. Out of the house his steps are lighter and swifter as he gets nearer his premises. When arrived he takes it to the repairing room; removing it from the case he again examines it, and with a smile says to his chief repairing help--here, what d'ye think of that? This workman, who has not studied as an enthusiastic connoisseur during the many years of his working on the premises, takes it up, looks it well over, and then observes--"well, at first I thought it was a good modern copy, but now if I don't think it's a real one! Well, I never! it is, too! look at that stuff all over it." This was his manner of criticising varnish when it seemed to him of good quality. "I would like to have some of that! a worm-hole though. Don't know how far that goes." "We'll soon see," says the other. After a few turns over again amidst remarks of admiration expressed in different ways, the fiddle is brought into a good light and preparations made for opening it. "Why, I don't think it's ever been opened before," says one. "Certainly not," says the other. "Now," says the dealer, "you had better do it," and the workman proceeds thus--first removing the tailpiece and with a "post setter" lifting the sound post out carefully through the right sound hole, he removes the tail pin, and holding the instrument to let as much light as possible into the interior, looks through the pin hole and observes--"No patch in this, Mr. ----, fresh as a new-laid egg--original bar too,--however, let's go ahead." The fiddle is then laid face downwards on a cushion or soft pad and held in position with the extended palm of the hand. The operator then takes what has been once in use as a table knife, but is now thin and smooth with wear, keeping the left hand firmly in position and the knife in the other, he casts his eye round for any portion that may seem looser or more lightly glued than the rest. It has been very neatly done however, and one part seems as good as another. "Stop a moment," says his companion, "let's have another look inside, maybe we shall see how the worms have been going about by the light passing through." It is taken again to a window; the sun fortunately is streaming in and so enables master and man to proceed under favourable conditions. The dealer patiently turns the violin about so that the rays of the sun may penetrate wherever possible through the material; after a while he hands the violin to his workman--"you have a look, James, I cannot see any traces--I don't think the worm has gone very far, seemingly only a short distance from the opening." James looking again, and coming to the same conclusion, the violin is again taken to the operating table and the knife taken in hand. 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.) [Illustration: 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. CHAPTER XI. GETTING PARTS TOGETHER THAT APPARENTLY DO NOT FIT--THE USE OF BENZINE OR TURPENTINE--TREATMENT OF WARPED OR TWISTED LOWER TABLES. "We will now," says the chief, "have a look at that old Brescian violin that I bought last week, it is in that set of drawers by the bench there, the third from the top." The assistant gives a look in the direction that would strike a spectator as expressive of doubt whether a violin could be even squeezed by hard pressure into any of the drawers. Nevertheless he obeys, opens the drawer, and seeing only a brown paper parcel tied with thin string, takes it out and holding it up says, "do you mean this paper bag, sir?" "Yes, that is it." The paper bag is brought to the table at which the chief is sitting and who undoes the string and paper, letting loose a number of begrimed pieces of veneer-like wood, some of these fractured, the upper and lower tables comprising three parts, a head that some modern makers would think ugly enough to cause a nightmare, with its short heavy neck as left by the maker about three hundred years back. The condition of the whole concern was suggestive of its having been raked up from some out of the way dust heap that had, after the oblivion of a century, at last caught the eye of a modern sanitary inspector. There was only one sort of person to whom it would be at all inviting, that of our chief above mentioned. "Now that is what I call a bargain, James," he begins, when turning over the pieces one by one; "all perfect, not a part lost. I bought it of a dealer in the country who said he could not get the parts together, they would not fit, and he was glad to get rid of the lot with as little loss as possible." James at this moment has been placing the two tables of the violin together and remarks, "I don't think these belong, sir, the back is nearly a quarter of an inch shorter than the front and narrower too." "Never mind that," is the answer, "the style is the same, the purfling, the work and the varnish are the same, it was all together at one time and looked well enough, and it will have to go together again and possibly look much better, and you will have to do it under my instruction, as you proceed, it will repay for all the trouble and time spent upon it by its appearance and tone. The man who sold it to me said that its former owner told him he had a good try at getting it together and failed. This is the direction in which they have both made their mistake, they treated the unmechanical old Italian work as they would a modern copy of a Cremonese maker, and which had been built upon a machine cut block that served for ever so many warehouse fiddles; these old Italians had to use the hand bow saw, which was not adapted, unless great care was taken, for getting very true upright sides, hence the upper and lower tables are as often as not differing in size, sometimes the upper is largest, at others the lower. Occasionally the length may be the same with the width differing. Now you had better set to work and wash all that muck from the pieces, be careful not to separate any parts that may be fairly well fixed. I want you to do this cleaning in my manner, not that which you were accustomed to before coming here. I know the too frequently pursued method of putting the whole collection of parts in a tub of water and there letting them float about until the glue has dissolved and left the wood, but the following is preferable. Firstly, get some hot water sufficient for your requirements as you proceed, renewing it occasionally. Your piece of sponge you always have ready, and your cotton cloth as usual. I have cut down a hog hair brush of half-an-inch in width, you can use other sizes according to convenience. Being cut abruptly across, they can be used as small scrubbing brushes after dipping in the hot water. The advantage is that of your being enabled to leave untouched or even dry, certain parts which you are not desirous of interfering with. The occasional sopping up with the sponge and cloth will show the progress that is made. The dark, dirty glue of the modern fiddle tinker will gradually wash off, leaving frequently the ancient, light coloured stuff in quite a fresh state and sharply defined, further, it will sometimes give you a hint as to the exact position which the adjacent pieces held originally. There will not be any necessity for scrubbing very hard with the cut-down brushes; if this is done the surface of the wood will suffer; a little patience as one part after another is cleansed and the whole completely denuded of its covering of dirty glue and grime, and it will be perceptible that there is method in this, and consequently the most rapid real progress. "Occasionally there will be found in and about old repairings or tinkerings lumps of pitch-like substances, hard or soft as the occasion has seemed to the workman to require, or possibly the only stuff obtainable, if not with the idea of a damp resisting material. These, as you know, will be treated in your usual manner, that is, removing with a blunt knife for a large piece and a piece of fine flannel wetted with some pure benzine, which having a strong affinity for any oily particles, absorbs them rapidly and leaves a clean surface. Spirit of turpentine will also answer the purpose, but is less rapid in its action and does not evaporate so completely, leaving a slight residuum of resin. Alcohol of any degree of strength must be kept quite away from the work, as even supposing it specially adapted as a solvent for removing the objectionable material that may be found clinging anywhere, it has such destructive action upon the old Italian varnishes that the slightest drop on the surface will cause irreparable injury. Keep it quite clear of your repairing work, it is not absolutely necessary under any circumstances, although it is very tempting to a slovenly repairer." We will now suppose that the instructions have been duly carried out, the different parts have now resumed their original condition of cleanliness and have a wholesome aspect. One or two of the ribs left standing and even undisturbed since being placed in position by the maker about three centuries back, serve as a guide respecting the projection of the edging over the ribs. After carefully noting this, and damping round the inner edge, these are removed and placed aside. The chief and his assistant are now enabled to thoroughly examine the work of this product of a by-gone age. It is none the worse for being clean. The comments upon the tool-marks now visible after the dispersion of the grime are of a rather opposite character, the connoisseur noticing the manner of working over the surface by the old Italians as being different to that pursued now; the assistant sees nought but rough gougings and scratchings as with a notched or blunted tool, and concludes that the old makers were not as good workmen as the moderns. "Now, James," says the other, "you have been doing little else than repairing since you took up with this business, and have never had the opportunity of working a violin from the beginning, straight off the stocks, without being drawn away to some other work. Consequent upon this your work has not so much distinctive character, much effort at mere smoothness being apparent and in excess of good style. These old Italians were designing and making new violins day after day for their livelihood. Repairing, when they could make equally good, fresh instruments, was to them of secondary importance, and so we find restorations in the olden times were of a kind we should now call very indifferent, if not altogether bad." The lower table or back of good sycamore is now turned about and well scrutinised by James, who now remarks, "this back is warped, I think that is why the last two owners could not make the other parts fit well, what is to be done with it, we are not likely to make a better job of it than they were with a back twisted like that?" The reply is, "that old Brescian maker was not likely to turn out a new violin with such a twisted spine! that condition has arisen since and is not a constitutional defect, it has been caused by damp and straining, and being repaired while in the strained condition, it retained the twist; we must alter that. Fortunately, the back is in one piece, so we shall not have the trouble about the joint, although with the necessary extra care the treatment would have to be much the same. Now, first of all, get a cotton cloth sufficiently large when folded once or twice to cover a surface such as the violin back presents. It must now be well soaked with water till it holds as much as possible without dripping. The violin table will now be placed with the varnished side downwards, the wetted cloth placed over it. Be sure that the surfaces of cloth and wood are in contact by gently dabbing it down all over. It can now be placed aside for about three or four hours in order that the moisture may soak into the wood for some depth. Meanwhile we may determine upon and get ready the means whereby the warping, as far as possible, if not wholly, may be got rid of. It must be borne in mind that the wood which was cut in its natural state from the tree and mostly with the grain, will be disposed, under the influence of damp, to return to the original form or condition in a more or less degree. Under good management, that is to say, with a sufficient amount of damp and no more, it almost seems to try to resume its old condition. This will be borne out by watching the effect of much wet upon any wood that has been previously bent into shape, or upon the separated ribs of a violin. The efforts of the wood to return to its original conformation will be apparent in the instance of the ribs, perhaps provoking, as the re-bending without injuring the varnish, which may happen to be of the most lustrous and delicate description, is often a matter of great difficulty, and at times an impossibility." It was for the purpose of avoiding the risk of such defacement that the brushing away of the glue and grime by parts at a time was recommended, although the time consumed by taking the parts in detail may often be a drawback. If the ribs are quite saturated, as when left to float in water, they will be sure to come out nearly straight, and the varnish, if not of the kind that has been worked well into the wood, irrecoverably spoilt. Even when quite so, the trouble does not end here, for the wood having taken nearly its own form again, will have to be bent, with all its attendant troubles, into shape. Complete saturation of any part of the violin should therefore be avoided. The "making" or arrangement of whatever may be needful for getting rid of the warp or twist of the back plate will now have to be decided upon. There is generally more than one way of getting over a mechanical difficulty, and in the present instance there may be many, but the one promising to be most successful and offering the least number of obstacles to success will have attention. The repairer takes in hand some of the softest wood obtainable, say American pine, or if any is easily obtainable, poplar; that kind known as "black poplar" is perhaps as free from hard thread as any, a couple or more of slabs about three or four inches wide and two or three longer than the upper and lower widths of the back, with about a quarter of an inch of thickness. An opening is bored in each, one in which the upper or smaller part will pass through, the other sufficiently large to admit the lower or larger half. The opening must of course be enough for admission of the rise or modelling and a little more. The object of this will soon be apparent. When the inner surface of the back plate has absorbed sufficient moisture from the wet cloth, this being so in the judgment of the operator, the wood will have lost very much of its resisting power to twisting by the hands. Advantage is taken of this condition, and each piece or collar of wood passed over the proper portion of the back like a loop. If fitting tolerably close, all the better; but it may require a soft wedge or two in parts to keep it from shifting after being placed in position. In some instances more than two or even three or four pieces may be of advantage where the tendency to twist is irregular. The operator now gets a short plank of ordinary wood, of even surface, straight, and true as possible in each direction; lifting the violin table with the loops of wood attached and placing it on the plank, some of the loops will be raised up on one side while others are depressed at the same. In the case of the simple warp, one of the two will vary in rise or a different angle to the plane. The process now is simple, and the loop rising at one side will be pressed down and held in position by either a weight or any contrivance handy. It should be done a little more than seems necessary for restoring the even line of the edging, which can be fairly well seen by looking along from end to end; this is to allow of a slight recoil when the loops or wooden cramps are removed. For a more determined twist the extra depression of one part can be accomplished by inserting layers of wood under the opposing parts so as to get more distance for the remaining one. Nothing is now required but the drying thoroughly. This will be according to temperature and moisture present in the atmosphere; no artificial means should be resorted to. Not the slightest injury will accrue from the process described, provided due care is taken that there is no overstraining, and the damping is neither excessive nor insufficient. The result of the former is likely to be an inequality in the bending, the line or level of the edging when looked at along its course, will look uneven, as if some upheaval had taken place here and there. Courage and caution are faculties brought to bear strongly and continuously on the subject by every repairer with a reputation for success. Without the former, many attempts which might have ended successfully have proved to be failures and to require doing over again; and insufficiency of the latter is what is so strongly evident in a very large majority of so-called "restored" violins. The cases may have been considered by the repairers as requiring heroic treatment, overstraining, excision of an unnecessary amount of the old wood, making too much of a clean sweep of parts that may have afforded food and lodging for bore worms being too evident, besides the saving of time and trouble. CHAPTER XII. REMOVAL OF OLD SUPERFLUOUS GLUE BY DAMPING--REPLACING OLD END BLOCKS BY NEW ONES--TEMPORARY BEAMS AND JOISTS INSIDE FOR KEEPING RIBS, ETC., IN POSITION WHILE FRESHLY GLUED. To the workroom we will again return. The back has had ample time to dry while the assistant James has been doing other work of an ordinary or trifling character. The loops or collars are gently released, put aside for future use, and the now much less warped back is brought for the chief's inspection. "That will do, James, nicely, I think, now you will be able to go ahead with the other parts, and perhaps we shall be successful enough when the whole is finished to make those people, when they see it, rather regretful at their hasty disposal of the paper full of scraps of old Brescia. While we are in the bending mood, however, we will get that Lorenzo Guadagnini into a little better trim, you left it on that shelf over there last week." James fetches it, a rather woe-begone affair to an ordinary observer; it had been cut open, the head sawn off, placed inside, the upper table laid on and a string passed round the waist and tied with a loose knot. "Look at it, James, and tell me what is wrong and the remedy." The string is untied, and the parts laid on the bench and examined one by one. "In excellent preservation, sir, in most respects, although it has been opened many times and a heap of glue left about it." An inch rule is taken up and passed over the separated parts for comparison; some slight expression of amazement passes over James's features, re-measurement ensues, and turning to his chief he remarks, "I didn't see that at first, sir, it's worse than that old Brescian; just look here, sir, the ribs are not upright, but bending inwardly; across the upper part they are so much out of the perpendicular that when the upper table is laid carefully on, instead of there being the eighth of an inch of overlapping border it is nearly a quarter of an inch each side; and what is more curious, the ribs do not seem to have been unglued since they were first put there, excepting a small part at the upper and lower ends, and see, sir, when I put the upper table on it is like an arch, and to press that part down on to the ribs will send a crack along from the sound hole on either side, which will simply be breaking up the whole affair by degrees." "Well, what method would you propose for correcting all this and making a good restoration of it, James? Give it a look over carefully and tell me." The assistant well knows the attendant circumstances connected with a good restoration or a bad one; if left as it is, it may be sold "in the trade" for so much, if badly restored it will fetch less, if well done it will be worth to the outside world a considerable sum, and if it should go well as regards the emission of its doubtless fine tone, the value as a whole would be greatly enhanced. Much thinking and careful calculation is therefore concentrated on the subject, and after awhile James says, "Well, sir, this lot of glue all round may as well come off first as last, there's no doing anything with it as it is." With this his chief agrees; so he sets to work, not with a chisel or any cutting instrument, he is so far advanced in his methodical working to know from experience that it is next to impossible to avoid injuring the sharply defined and level edge of the rib as left by the maker originally if such rough treatment as filing, chipping or cutting is resorted to; he therefore adopts a milder course of treatment. Taking a few pieces of cotton cloth or white sheeting--old calico is equally efficient--he folds them into several layers, and when so about four inches long by about three-quarters of an inch in width. Nearly a dozen of these are got ready. After being soaked in water, they are taken out and slightly squeezed so that they no longer drip. One by one they are placed all round on the edge of the ribs close to each other so that no vacant space is perceptible between each, and after a gentle patting down with the fingers along the course they are left to do their work quietly, more effectively, too, by far, than any steel tool with the brute force necessary for ploughing through that most obstinate of materials, hard, dry glue. These folds of cotton material James calls his poultices for drawing the impurities away from the system; they, in the present instance, afford him time to think over the sort of engineering that will task his energies to some extent. Leaving the poultices to their work, the old Brescian is again taken in hand under the direction of the chief. "Now, James, let us look over the parts again. The next step must be getting the end blocks attached to the back. We have got that into a tolerably straight line again, so that we can work on the affair almost like a new fiddle. Those old blocks, well I should like to retain them if possible, but on looking over them very little discernment is sufficient to conclude that fresh ones will be not only better but necessary. In the first place, they are very small, were roughly cut in the first instance, and since have been meddled with by would-be restorers; good new ones properly fitted will be far better than old ones added to, necessarily for strength. Some of that old pine, or as good, that French willow will suit our purpose. We will choose the latter. See that the grain runs perpendicularly or at right angles with the cut surface that is to be glued down. Chop or split it, don't saw it into shape, and then you can finish it off when glued into position, when you will not find you have to cut against the grain." This, as a matter of course, is conformed to, the blocks split off the bulk or plank, sawn to a little over the proper length or height to allow of finishing, and then the surface to be glued is made even and squared with the part against which the ribs will be hereafter glued. The lower end one will of course require a trifle of curving to allow of the ribs following the course of the curve of the border; this the assistant duly sees to by trying it in position until it appears to be satisfactory. The parts of the blocks to be left facing the interior of the violin he leaves roughly done to shape and size of those in modern violins, that being found the best from experience since the demise of the old masters of Italy. The upper one is left more protuberant, or nearly semi-circular; the reason for this is that the strain upon both upper and lower table at this end is greater than at any other part, therefore if the block is too narrow there is not enough grip or extent of glued surface, a frequent result of which is the lowering of the fingerboard, and a buckling of the surface underneath of the upper table, a condition much to the detriment of the proper emission of the tone. Great attention should always be paid this particular part. Many repairers seem fearful that the air-space of the interior of the violin will be lessened by a projecting block. A little consideration will enable them to see that for effectiveness of purpose the form of the interior of almost any violin will not--from its curved surface--allow of an over large block with a flat glueing surface above and below. These conditions having been seen to, the assistant with some freshly made glue paints over the surfaces of the ends that will be fastened to the lower table. As this is to be for a permanency, the glueing must be of the best. When dry, the surface is scraped even and the usual glueing and cramping done. To Lorenzo Guadagnini again; sufficient time being allowed for the moisture in the folds of cotton to affect and be absorbed by the glue, the assistant fetches it from its enforced retirement, brings it to the light carefully, lifts up one of the poultices, touches the glue with the tip of a small knife and is satisfied. The glue has been softened and is now little more than a jelly attached to the prominent parts of the ribs. The first thing will be to get some rag or paper, place it handy and remove one of the wet pads or poultices, then with the small knife, kept for such purposes, being blunt and worn smooth, the glue or jelly is carefully scraped away. The advantage of using the blunt knife will be evident, as it does not cut the surface as it passes over it. The point is occasionally used for any corner that may require it. After this a small sponge or rag dipped in warm water is passed over the edges and removes what is left untouched by the knife. This is repeated with each separate pad in succession all round and when completed the work is put aside and allowed to dry. A previous examination of the inside surface of the upper table had shown the necessity of similar treatment, but not to such an extent. Not much time expires before the assistant brings the parts before his chief. "As clean almost as when new," is the exclamation of the latter; "it really wants little more than a new or proper bar and then glueing together." "Yes, but about that difference of measurement, sir, across the upper and lower parts." Here the assistant takes the upper table and places it like a lid on a box; turning it back downwards for better inspection, he says, "it's nearly a quarter of an inch out, the border overlaps frightfully, you would not glue it up like that, would you, sir?" "Certainly not," says the other, without the least sign of annoyance on his features. Turning to his man he says, "Now, James, here is a nice little instance where you can study with much interest and profit the subject of cause and effect. You drew my attention to the excellent preservation, and you have removed what appeared to you at first sight the only impediment to perfect restoration, that of the coarse glueing. You have rightly observed that the back has never been removed, and yet the ribs bend inwardly when tested and seem to require a smaller upper table. The reason is plain after you have given the matter some right consideration. The maker, as you know, was an excellent artificer and was a pupil of the great Stradivari. Now here is the cause; the violin has been, as you know, opened several times by persons more or less unfitted for the proper performance of such an operation, fiddle tinkers I call them, and with a pot of thick dirty brown and repulsive looking glue, have with a coarse brush dabbed it all round and then screwed the lid down. The successors in this ghastly process have not had the decency to treat the instrument as worthy of much care, and so with dirty cloths and glue have again repeated the work, if it may be dignified by such a term, spoliation is perhaps a better one. Now we know that the violin has been separated and left so, being merely tied up, and been in that dirty little den of ravening wolves or tinker dealers for nobody knows how long, with the rays of the sun falling on it for many days; the result is as we see, the back has contracted and drawn the ribs in to some extent, it is glue-bound, we will set it free, the wood itself will help us, as if glad to resume its former occupation; give me that soft brush with clean water." This being handed to him, the chief with repeated and careful strokes and dippings of the brush passes over the surface, going round but leaving untouched the label, which seems to have remained undisturbed: the joint down the centre is avoided in a similar way. After some time, as the moisture has penetrated the wood, he turns to the assistant, saying, "now, James, try the front on"; this is done, and the latter, thinking he will just catch his master, says, "fits exactly now, sir! but won't it come back again beautifully as it dries." "Well, that is just what we are going to prevent, James; while this is wet, cut some soft sticks of wood and place them across from one side to the other, don't wedge them in tightly, as many as will keep up an even pressure all along." This does not take long, the sticks are inserted like so many little joists across, and the curious looking structure is once more placed aside to dry. While James was cutting and then placing the sticks of various lengths across, his chief was close by suggesting now and then some trifling variation in the adjustment. "Don't put them all with the same strain, give a look now and then as you proceed, in order to ensure against an over amount of pressure--there, that will be enough! if too much against the large curves, it will bulge out too far, and the shape will go." While proceeding he was now and then cautioned as to this kind of insertion of pieces or joists. Very frequently old Italian instruments of free design are most unequal in their curves, one side having a different curving to the other; they are, indeed, seldom exactly the same on both sides, as modern makers try to make them. It will be evident, then, that care must be taken that a flat or large curve should be treated with more or less pressure than other parts. (Diag. 36.) When this inequality is very apparent, a double system of joists must be adopted thuswise, get two pieces of strong wood, say plain light mahogany, some three-quarters or an inch in thickness, and square along its course. The ends are to be cut so that they will rest within the body of the instrument easily, barely touching each end between the upper and lower linings, if at all. The two ends will touch or rest against the upper and lower end blocks and the pressure, when the sticks are placed across, will be against these, the pushing outward of parts of the ribs or linings being regulated to a nicety. Should one or more of the sticks or joists be accidentally cut too short, a small wedge of soft wood inserted at either end as may be deemed best will correct matters. As the violin at present under consideration is suffering from simple contraction and the linings are fairly stout, the joists will be arranged so as to keep up a gentle pressure on the upper ones. A very considerable amount of effective restoration can be done by means of this system of joists carried out with judgment. The two large supports,--sometimes one only may be necessary,--will be found of great use for a variety of purposes other than the one being referred to; they can be used not only for pressing against, but for the opposite, as when a rib or portion of it has from some cause--perhaps fracture or thinness--bulged outwardly. It will be perceptible at once that for direct pressure against a part of the ribs, situated near the upper block, that the little joist will slip unless a nick is made for its reception in the large support or beam. This is so evident that a reminder seems scarcely necessary. [Illustration: DIAGRAM 36.] When it so happens that contraction must be resorted to on a rib or part, it has to be brought back; then one, two or more holes may be bored in the mahogany beam and recourse made to some bent iron wire, which, perhaps, has the preference in use over other material, as it can be shaped or pressed to a curve, one end being inserted in a hole, the other placed outside the offending part and with a soft pad or wood wedge against the old material to be brought back. The special advantage of iron wire is that it can be gently hammered into such form as will enable just enough pressure to be exerted at any particular place as may be thought proper. This is, of course, assuming that some iron substance is at hand that will answer the purpose of an anvil. The thickness of the iron wire must depend upon the requirements and size of the work in repair, a viola of course taking stouter wire than a violin, a 'cello still more so. A useful average for violin work would be an eighth of an inch diameter. Strong wire however is not always to hand, time also is occasionally short; when so, wood must be resorted to, cutting it with a sharp knife to a form that will clasp or allow of the requisite purchase at any point; more room, however, is taken up with this method, and possibly not so much at a time will be accomplished. A stock of soft wood in the plank should always be at hand on a repairer's premises, soft American pine of about a quarter of an inch thick being very useful for all sorts of purposes in connection with the "making," as it is termed in the business. Supposing now that a reasonable time has elapsed for the thorough drying out of all damp, the assistant is now requested to bring both the old Italian violins for inspection by his chief. The latter gives a look over both in turn, and says, "I think you may take those sticks out of the Guadagnini, it must be dry enough by this time." This being done, the upper tables of both are fetched and tried on, "there," says the chief, "they fit as near as we want them to, and we might almost say they cured themselves." As the Guadagnini had nothing further to be done to it, James is told to proceed with the glueing and closing up. CHAPTER XIII. RE-OPENING THE BACK TO CORRECT THE BADLY REPAIRED JOINT--A FEW WORDS ON STUDS--FILLING UP SPACES LEFT BY LOST SPLINTERS--MATCHING WOOD FOR LARGE CRACKS, ETC. Regarding the glueing and closing up process, we will defer the matter for the present. While the assistant is going through the necessary routine in connection with that most important part of the repairing of a violin, the master has been looking over a few of the things that are to be operated upon some time or other. Going to a sort of store cupboard, he fetches from thence a violin in fair condition generally, but with one sad defect, the back has at one time been open, that is, the joint down the middle, either through damp affecting the glue or from violence, had parted and had been badly repaired; the two surfaces being brought together and glued, but not evenly, one side being a trifle higher than the other. "James," he calls out, "this old Pesaro fiddle is worth putting right; when you have finished what you are about, put the wet rags on this as far along the joint as may be necessary, set them better and closer, it is the fine varnish all over that will make it worth while." James having finished the closing up of the Guadagnini and taken the instrument with its array of screw cramps into a place where it could repose uninterfered with until quite dry, returns and looks over the violin just brought forth from its retirement. "It seems to me, sir, this back will have to come off before we can properly bring those two halves together." The other scans the work again, turns it over, tries its strength between his fingers and thumbs, and concludes with "Well, I think you are right, it is quite worth the extra labour and had better be done so." The matter being settled, James takes a seat, and, with the violin resting on his lap and held by his left hand, the broad bladed knife in his right is inserted with a carefully calculated thrust underneath the border and edging. There is not much difficulty; sometimes the violin is turned in a contrary direction when there is a disposition for the grain to tear up here and there. At last the back is free, the corners and blocks have caused a little trouble in the progress of the knife around, the wood being hard and tough on both sides of the knife. It would have been slower work with a violin of later and more careful construction. In the present instance there are no linings to struggle with. "Now," says the workman, "we can get to work at this joint much more easily." After being examined again by both, the rags are again brought into requisition. The back is laid varnished side downwards and a "poultice" applied as far along the joint as appears necessary. Meanwhile other work, such as fitting and finishing, is proceeded with. A proper length of time has to elapse,--in the present instance it will be longer than that for the purpose of merely softening the glue. The damp has to work its way down at the junction of the two parts, a rather slow process at the best of times; the back now under treatment being of full average thickness causes some extra time to be taken up. After repeated examinations, the joint, being gently tried each time, gives evidence of the glue having softened. "You must clear out that black stuff," interposes the chief, when the rag or poultice has been lifted off. James accordingly, having some warm water and a small hog-haired brush already to hand, proceeds to gently scrub the brush along the course where the ugly black line is seen. It is necessary to do this both sides, the varnished one receiving milder attention than the other. Frequent dippings of the brush in water, gently scrubbing away the glue and wiping the brush on a cloth, working the joint backward and forward between the fingers, are details of the process gone through in a leisurely yet business-like manner; much care is exercised that no strain is made on the good and unwetted part of the joint. At last the old glue having by degrees been got rid of, the outer moisture is absorbed by a gentle wiping of the cloth along the course of the joint. The next movement is simply putting the plate away to dry. To attempt any glueing together of the parts while they are swollen with moisture would be to make matters worse than before, as the edges are too soft to bear interference, besides which, the sharpness of them is difficult to perceive while wet and semi-transparent. We will now, after the time allowed for drying, see the work proceeding under the hands of the workman. After trying the parts, that is, bringing the separated edges together for seeing whether a fresh and clean join can be effected, some soft wood at hand is cut for the combined purposes of mould and cramp. The piece used is about nine inches long by about one in width and a quarter of an inch thick. Marking off on this thickness, and a trifle over the greatest width of the back, the lower part of which is to be inserted, wood is cut away to the depth of about a quarter of an inch; within this again a further cutting is made to fit the modelling or rise of the curve of the back. This will admit the plate loosely. On placing it within, the two halves are squeezed together by soft wood wedges of necessary size inserted between the edges of the plate and the wood cramp; if necessary, another wedge on one side or the other of the joint is placed for bringing both to a proper level. After trying this without glue, the pieces are removed, glue of good strength is put on the surfaces to be joined and the whole put in position again. The lower end of the joint near the purfling will require a little additional cramping together. This part of the process is one of the very few instances where more than a couple of hands are of advantage, if not of actual necessity, the reason being that the two parts or halves of the back which have to be brought to an exact level must be held in position by two hands very firmly, while a cramp (with paper padding and cork between the teeth) is screwed rather tightly by another person. It is then as usual laid by to dry. After a satisfactory time has elapsed, the wooden tie, mould or cramp, as we may call it, with its small wedges is removed, the metal screw cramp at the end is unfastened, the paper removed, and the joint is found to be much improved, if not quite up to the original state as when new. There is of course some superfluous glue to be cleared away, this having oozed out when the glue was first applied, there is also a portion of paper adhering where the screw cramp was attached over the border. This is done by wiping with a damp rag until it is clear, finishing with a dry one. There is yet a little more attention necessary at times when the repairing of a back of the kind just described has been gone through. Backs of violins of a standard of excellence both high and low are not always as robust in their substance as might be desirable, so when a trifle weak there is more strain on the middle line or joint than when the wood is stout. In this case a few studs are advisable. On this detail of repairing nearly always resorted to by repairers, a few words will not be out of place. For the present we will only treat of the back. The size, disposition and shape of these is by no means an unimportant matter. At various times and places different sizes and shapes have been the fashion. Often apparently merely a matter of caprice, these strengthening discs have been used to such an extent, both in size and number, as to defeat the very object the restorer has had in view. No repairer would think it worth while to cramp or keep pressed down by any means the studs that he may think proper to place in position. To obviate this he uses very strong glue; if a good workman he will see that the course along which the studs are to lie is quite clean, a slight washing with a brush or sponge will set this right. Now it follows as a matter of course that the surface of the part, owing to the modelling, is somewhat concave, and so as the studs are invariably cut from a flat strip of veneer, if they are very large, the glue in hardening and of course shrinking during the process will leave a hollow space in the middle, or maybe on one side, where the drying happens to commence. There will be thus a lessening of the strengthening by the stud, and sometimes a jarring of the loose parts, giving an immense amount of trouble in finding out the obscure seat of the nuisance when the instrument may be otherwise in good order. There should be then a distinct limit to the size of any studs that experience and judgment may dictate as indispensable. Three-eighths of an inch square may be taken as the limit to which it is safe to go. The studs should be cut from fairly stout veneer, and for the present purpose, that of the back, usually of sycamore, the same kind of wood is preferable to any other. They should be trimmed so as not to require much if any finishing when attached and dried, as all trimming with edged tools afterwards is likely to be attended by occasional slips of the chisel. The glue at hand being fresh and very strong, a piece of steel wire or knitting needle of convenient length will be a desideratum, the point being stuck in slightly and only deep enough to enable the stud to be lifted thereby and held upside down while a globule of glue is laid or dropped upon it. It is then turned over and laid on the desired spot and pressed there. If the point of the needle is nicely polished it will allow of pressing, and a turn round will release it, leaving the stud in position; if on the other hand the point is too prolonged, rough and sharp, the stud will probably be pulled off again. It will thus be perceptible that the best shape will be rather obtuse but very smooth. When the stud is in position and the glue setting or chilling, an additional pressure with a small rod of wood or hard material will drive the glue out from the edges and the work may be left to itself. A word or two as to shape. Sometimes circular discs of sycamore are met with, at others square. Lozenge shape is frequently met with, and this I am inclined to favour most, as there being an acute angle at each end there is a corresponding increase of holding surface with the least amount of wood. These should be cut so that the grain does not run with that of the joint, nor in exact opposition to it, but diagonally. There is a method much to be deprecated that was fashionable in some parts of Europe in the last century, of strengthening the middle joint of the back by first cutting out a lozenge or square space and then fitting and filling with a stud. When dry, the parts are levelled and glass-papered over. This system, although looking very neat, the surface being quite smooth, will hold good for a time, but when this has elapsed with wear and damp attacking it, the supposed remedy is much worse than the disease, the whole joint being in danger of disarrangement and splitting, necessitating even further heroic treatment. Should the studs when firm and dry seem to require a little finish, the chisel must be carefully handled with angular or sharpened surface downwards, the thinnest shavings being taken carefully off. A slight touching with glass paper may be allowed to take away the crudeness of the chisel marks. When breakages of different degrees have to be treated at other parts of the back, small studs may be used, particularly when the fractures are fresh, free from dirt and fit well. In these instances, after the glueing together has been effected, studs of not more than a full eighth of an inch will be found sufficient. It is scarcely necessary to add that they may be thinner in substance also. If, however, there be sufficient substance of wood, the fractures and joints brought well together and fitting closely and neatly, then studs are better dispensed with altogether, the simplicity of the whole being less impaired. It must be always borne in mind that the smaller the amount of fresh wood introduced into an injured violin the better. In instances where a part is lost or so broken as to be little less than pulverised, there is only one course open, that of paring down the sides of the aperture so that the fresh wood may be accurately fitted to it. The back being repaired to the chief's satisfaction, the instrument is further closely examined in order that any other damage which may be discovered shall be seen to for a time convenient for the final closing and fitting up. Just at the moment announcement is made of the arrival of a parcel directed to the chief, "With care, fragile." "Another patient for our hospital," he observes. "Oh, it's from that professor who was here some time since. I thought from his remarks and careless manner he was a likely man to lead his violin into danger, if not into inextricable difficulties; let us see what is the matter. Open the box, James, take the fiddle out, there is probably a letter placed with it to save postage." James dutifully proceeds with the work while his chief retires to make a short note concerning some other matters. "You're right, sir, there is a dirty envelope stuck between the strings and fingerboard." This is taken away and handed to the chief, who runs a small knife along the edge and releases the epistle, which runs as follows:-- SIR,--In this morning I have great trouble as I walk the stairs down my violin chest open itself, and my violin go to the bass, and when I was to pick him up he was bad break in one two place. I am sorry to come to you as good doctor to finish him soon, and please charge no large. Truly yours, HERMANN GROSZHAAR. "Capital English for him," says the chief, to which James answers in a careless sort of undertone, "There's a little English, but less capital about him, wanted to borrow five bob from me when he came last." The violin, after being taken from the case, is closely examined by the chief, who turns it round about, tapping it here and there and holding it up to the light. At last, handing it to James he says:--"Not so much as I should have expected after the terrible occurrence described in the letter; the fiddle is a good one, so it deserves proper attention, no matter who owns it. Just look about the case and find if you can the small piece that has come from this place in the front table." James looks earnestly about the interior of the violin case without success. "No sign of it here, sir, there's nothing at all but a little bit of sweetstuff," he says, taking out a small white disc from one of the side pockets. "Well, we must proceed to work without it, so get that box out with the odd pieces of old wood; I've no doubt you will find a piece that will match the grain of the pine to a nicety; we must have the upper table off, better do it first." This proceeding, of a kind as described before, having occupied some minutes, the upper table is held by the chief while the assistant gropes among the odds and ends of pine and in a minute or two finds a piece which is pronounced to suit admirably. "Now, James, there appears to be only this portion seriously injured, and another, almost a splinter, running along the part adjoining. It will be compulsory to cut a well-squared opening for the fitting, you will be careful to make the walls of this part contract as the descent is made, so that the wood inserted is slightly wedge-shaped. You will at the same time be careful and bear in mind that this fresh wood will have to match so nicely, that when inserted properly the threads or grain will appear continuous and not broken to the eye of any person but the experienced critic. To please this person, however, you will have not only to make the lines of the grain follow through evenly, but so fit your wood as to be in the direction of the growth of the plank from which the table was cut. You see this aperture is on the slant or curve about midway between the bridge and part near the tail-piece. Many repairers, even when inserting fresh wood with exceeding neatness, neglect this precaution, and, in consequence, when the part is finished and varnished over, there is but little indication of repair when looked at from one standpoint, but from another or a removal of the light, this fault is very conspicuous. A frequent attempt to conceal this is made by covering the part with dull varnish that will not allow of much light passing through; sometimes an entirely opaque plastering is pasted over, obscuring the grain of the old and new wood alike in the locality, and thus making what is known as a botch." For the execution of such repairs as these there will not be any necessity to open the violin. They will really be more conveniently effected without, there being more support and leverage where required. A long crack while fresh will take the glue readily and be as secure as required when dry. It should be placed along the line to the extreme ends or a little over, and with gentle pressure alternately each side the glue will be gradually drawn in. This should be continued for some time, until there is little disposition shown for more absorption. The superfluous glue will now be wiped off; should there be any tendency on one side or the other to remain higher, thus causing a ridge which must be most carefully guarded against, a piece of tape or ribbon tied round the violin at the part, and a small wedge of soft wood inserted between the tape and the elevated edge, will bring it to a proper level, when it may be put aside to dry and harden. When sufficient time has elapsed for this according to atmospheric conditions, the binding may be removed and the surface along the crack wiped with a damp rag until only the line is apparent. If the foregoing is done neatly and cleanly, there will be very little evidence of damage remaining. In such instances as the present there may be occasionally necessary two, three or more bindings with proper wedges, according to the length of the crack, the size of the violin and the model. If the latter is rather high, or of the kind called by our French neighbours _bombé_, the disinclination for the edges to come evenly together without help will be much greater, and therefore binders and wedges should be at once made ready after a glance at the model. CHAPTER XIV. REPAIRING LOST PORTIONS--MARGINS OF SOUND HOLES--MATCHING THE GRAIN--FIXING AND FINISHING OFF--REPLACING WITH FRESH WOOD LARGE PORTIONS OF UPPER TABLE--LOST PARTS OF PURFLING--RESTORING IT WITH OLD STUFF. As the repairing now under consideration is of a kind requiring not only skill, but experience in the handling of the tools and necessary appliances connected therewith, we will still suppose ourselves in the trained repairer's rooms at the rear of his premises, and that professors and amateurs frequently call at the shop in front with violins of various kinds with all sorts of injuries that they are desirous of having put right. Just at this moment a lady of highly fashionable appearance glides in, followed by her footman carrying a violin case. She has brought a violin that has been laid aside and forgotten for a long time at a friend's house, for generations in fact, it used to be in repute as a violin by Cremona. It has been given to her daughter, who is making great progress under the guidance of one of the most eminent performers of the day, and she wishes to have it put in good playing order if it is worth the expense. The footman obediently brings forward the case, unfastens the string that holds the lid down, the hinges being out of working condition, and places it on the counter; the lid being raised, a strong mousy odour comes forth. Our chief takes the violin from the hands of the man and turns it over, raises his eyebrows and remarks, "Yes, madam, the violin has been sadly neglected, the case having been left open mice have been residing in the snug retreat afforded them." "Yes," is the lady's rejoinder, "I believe the case was found a little way open, my friends have not been musical at any time and took no interest in the matter. Is it a good violin, Mr. ----?" "Good, madam? it is very fine, one of the masterpieces of Cremona. The mice have turned the sound-holes into doorways, the nibblings have gone nearly half through one of the wings." "Wings!" says the lady. "I was not aware of there being any wings to a violin." "No, ma'am," is the answer; "wings is a technical term we use to express that slender part with the straight cut line at the lower end of the sound hole. We shall have to open the violin to repair that part properly." "I hope that will not ruin the instrument," observes the lady. "Can you not do the repair without?" "We could, ma'am, if we wished to save time and run a risk." "Oh, please don't run any risk with it, now that I know that it is a valuable instrument I must ask you to take extra pains and do it in your best manner." "If you would like to see the violin open, I will get my assistant to do it now, it will take but a minute or so. Here, James, open this fiddle and bring it here again." There is not much waiting, the upper table has not been very obstinate, and James soon reappears with the loose parts, which he hands to his chief. The lady, rather eager at first to see if there is anything curious about the inside of a violin, rather shrinks away when it is brought near. "It is in a very dirty condition," the chief observes, "but we shall soon get that all right," he adds, "by giving it a wash." "But will not wetting it spoil the tone?" the lady asks. "Not in the least, ma'am," is the reply. "In fact, it will be improved, as at present there is so much grease and filth that the vibration would be seriously interfered with. When it is quite clean there will be more freedom, and the true character of the tone declared." The lady having departed, the chief takes the violin parts to the workroom. "This is a fine thing," he says to James. "I thought so too, sir," he replies, "got some fine stuff on it, fiery like, nothing the matter with it but those mouse nibblings." "That will require careful work, James, think you can do it sufficiently neat and make the new wood match well?" "I think so, sir. Some of that old pine that we had sent us last week will match thread for thread." "Well, give it a clean out first, James." This is at once commenced, and with the aid of some clean water, a sponge and stubby brush, followed by the application of a clean dry rag or duster, the interior presents a fairly clean appearance. "I see you have been careful about the label, James. It was not possible to decipher it when smothered with dirt, but we can read it now. Yes, what I thought, original ticket without a doubt. Joseph filius. Bring me that bottle of benzine and the hog-hair brush." This being done, the chief takes the brush wetted with the benzine and carefully brushes about the corners and other parts where the grease has refused to come away under the ordinary treatment. Each application is followed by a wiping of the cloth held in readiness. "There," he says at last, "it is quite fresh and wholesome. Don't suppose Mr. Mouse will go in again." "Now, James, what do you propose doing? making a clean sweep of the ragged parts with the knife or letting in angular portions in the German manner?" "Well, sir, on looking close at it perhaps the best way will be to act both ways, cut that part straight through and fit the splinters along there." "Yes," says the chief, "I think that way will save as much of the old material, if not more, than any other. Take pains with it and mind the small joinings are clean and sharp." James retires with the upper table to his bench, where the different necessary excisions are proceeded with. The next stage is that of glueing pieces of wood at the back of and across the sound holes. The object of this is to get more strength and leverage for pressing home the fresh wood to be inserted. From the neglect of this precaution many instruments have had cracks and other damages caused, making matters worse than before and necessitating much more work in rectifying it. After the necessary time, the glue being hard and dry enough, James begins the matching of the parts with pieces of old wood from the carefully hoarded pile in a box kept for the purpose; first one piece, then another is tried, until the right one is obtained for each requirement, both in respect of colour and matching of the thread or grain. The surfaces to come in contact and be fixed are minutely fitted, the larger ones only at present, the smaller gaps are left. All being ready, strong glue is applied to the parts which are to be united and they are pressed together, help toward adjustment being obtained from the wood glued across. Being left to dry, and this being complete, the cramps or wedges, as may have seemed appropriate, are removed, the cross pieces cut away and the glue washed off. The paring down of the fresh wood to the level of the surrounding parts has now to be very carefully done. The adjacent curves must be studied and the surfaces of the fresh parts worked until by testing, not only by the sight, but passing the finger across, the surface feels as one piece. For the small parts that require levelling, small pieces of glasspaper attached to a stick of pine shaped according to requirement will be found useful. The fresh wood will of course be projecting some way beyond the edges or course of the line of the sound holes, the exact outline of which it is most desirous to continue. This is about to be attended to by James, who thinks it a small matter to continue the line with his sharp knife, but his master happened to catch sight of his first strokes and sees his intention in time. "Stop!" he calls out, "not another stroke; just take a tracing of the opposite or corresponding part of the other sound hole and trace it down, don't trust to your eye unless you consider yourself an artist of experience and able to actually draw with your knife. "You must attend to another thing besides the tracing of the contour. When you cut up to the line that you take as a guide, you must see that you make the walls of the opening at the same angle downwards, and your fresh wood in every respect of form an exact continuation of the old work." The repair so far as the wood work is concerned is finished. It has now to receive the varnishing and touching up in detail for matching so as to arrest as little attention as possible as a repair. "There are two fiddles, sir, that a party brought here yesterday. They seem very far gone; one of them has lost quite a quarter of the upper table, it has had a bad smash and the pieces have not been saved." "Well, James," is the reply, "there is only one course to pursue, that is, to put a fresh piece of wood, join it as neatly as possible and match the varnish. I think we have a piece of old stuff sent us by an Italian dealer that will suit that exactly." The store of odds and ends of pine is rummaged over and the piece, with some pencil notes on it of date, etc., brought out and compared with the fractured fiddle. "Could not be better, James," says the chief. "Now take off that table, or what remains of it, and pare the ragged edges at the part near the sound hole. "At that part you had better shave it at an angle from the upper surface and make a corresponding start on the fresh wood; they must both fit to a nicety, and when so the old wood will overlap the fresh stuff. You will take care to have the upper surface of the fresh wood a little above the level of the old, to allow of finishing down to a good level when the time comes for the final touches." This is all seen to, the large slice of wood is for the present left square at the top, it is thick enough to represent the appearance of the slab of wood used by the original maker before the table was cut into form. There is some gouging to be done and shaping of the parts adjoining the old wood. It has, of course, been necessary to provide a sort of mould for fitting and pressing from above the thin shaved edge of the old material on to the new. Precaution, however, is taken to firstly glue the parts that are to be brought together at the joint. This will prevent the shaved surfaces from slipping when pressure is applied. These parts of the process having been done and the glue dried sufficiently, the under surface is levelled all round as a continuation of the under part of the old border. The table, therefore, can now be laid flat, and should fit well on to the ribs and linings as it did before the fracture. James now has recourse to the advice of his chief as to the best course to pursue. "Shall I trace the other side, sir, and mark it down on the fresh wood so as to make it balance?" "Certainly not," answers his chief, "this is what you must do. Lay the table on the ribs as if you were about to glue it down, you can let it be held in position by a couple of screw-cramps, then, with a lead pencil, take as a guide the ribs, holding it so that a mark can be made all round representing the projection of the new edging. A short piece of a pencil laid flat against the ribs and moved round, would perhaps be the most convenient." James proceeds dutifully to work, marks the edging, and then, after removing the screw-cramps, roughly hews away the wood to near the line. Much care and more delicate manipulation has to be exercised now, or the precaution of the pencil line will prove to be next to useless. Files of different degrees of tooth are employed until quite an even contour is obtained and a precise line, the continuation of the pattern, is seen. The next proceeding will be to mark the thickness of the edging all round. For this purpose a cut line is better than a mere mark, as the cutting up to it is easier and safer. The purfling tool may be regulated and adapted in this case, after which the table will be laid flat, carefully considered, and the more detailed gouging commenced. A small pair of calipers will prove handy for measuring the depth of the channelling of the original parts and gouging down carefully until a corresponding modelling has been effected. If the original work is sharply defined and a distinctly shaped border is present, then the work must be proceeded with as in the instance of making a new copy of a violin. Some little difficulty may appear when the question of matching the purfling arises. The assistant opens a drawer close by, selects a likely piece, compares it with that on the violin, and then shows it to his chief, who examines it in a similar manner. "Yes," he says, "I think that is sufficiently like, in fact, it will not be possible to get nearer, it is a bit of that old stuff, is it not, that we have kept by for an emergency? Have you got the groove cleanly cut and routed out?" "Yes, sir," is the answer; "I noticed about the depth that would be wanted at that little part where the old stuff had been snapped short at the fracture." "Well, that will do, James. Be careful to cut the ragged end with a clean angle, doing the same with the fresh stuff--fit the parts accurately, and when you insert the purfling see that the end is pushed home so that as little as possible is seen of the junction of the two ends." With these injunctions borne in mind, James proceeds to the work. Having had some experience in this branch of the repairing art, and, further, this being to him a more interesting part than others of the proceedings, he at once sets to work. Having roughly measured the length of the piece of purfling to be inserted, he finds that it will be necessary to bend it to the curves of the groove made for it. To force it in while in its present condition would not do, as it is nearly straight; for, although it has served to go round a violin in years gone by, it has almost resumed its old condition through the action of the natural damp in the atmosphere. CHAPTER XV. REPAIRS TO PURFLING (CONTINUED)--FILLING UP AN OPENING EXTENDING TO THE WHOLE LENGTH OF THE VIOLIN--FITTING THE CORE--FIXING IT IN POSITION AND RETAINING IT THERE--FINISHING THE SURFACE. Many old Italian violins bear indications of the haste of the maker to get the purfling done, and so without the delay of any intermediary process the purfling has been pressed in with great risk and sometimes an inevitable result of fracture. In the present instance, the violin having all the evidence of great care having been expended on its construction and finish, the repair, to be as successful as possible, must be carried out on the same principle, every little deviation of curve being well imitated. For the bending of the purfling there may be, of course, any number of methods. According to the consistency of the material, so the management must be. At present the piece of purfling, having been taken from a portion of an old violin bought for the purpose of breaking up and using for repairs, is very dry and rather brittle. The light coloured part or central portion is of some hard wood that refuses to accommodate itself easily to the requirements of the moment; this is found to be the case on trying a small portion with the fingers--it goes with a snap on very little attempt being made to bend it. James having met with this kind of thing before, knows more than one way of meeting the difficulty. As is often found, a rough and ready way is good for a small amount of work such as he has before him. He takes a candle and lights it. He has always at hand a jar of water ready for any damping required in the number of little odd jobs constantly occurring. Placing the jar of water within easy reach, he dips the purfling into it once and then wipes it with his handy cloth. Taking the two ends with the fingers of each hand he passes it backward and forward near the flame of the candle, using a gentle pressure to make it assume a crescent or bow shape. The heat causes the damp to evaporate and steam the materials, and the purfling will gradually assume the required curve. When this latter happens to be short or sudden, another dip and heating may be necessary. This being successfully accomplished, recourse is now had to the glue pot, a pointed piece of wood is dipped into it, and a small streak of glue is laid in the groove. The purfling is now carefully inserted along the course, pressed in and left to dry. After a sufficient time has elapsed, James looks over it, and finding all things ripe for finishing, takes a gouge of a size that will suit the channelling of the particular model adopted by the maker. Great care is necessary to shave off but a small portion as the gouge is passed along. The latter has a very keen edge, or it will tear instead of cut. It is used here and there in contrary direction, as the grain of the several parts of the purfling does not run quite level. A curved file, and finally a little glasspapering, will complete the matter so far. There will be for the finishing of the whole of the fresh wood a further process to go through, that is, a slight damping. This can be done with a small fine grained sponge or a moderately wet camel hair brush. This is for the purpose of slightly raising the grain. If this is not done at this time the soft part of the grain may show its automatic tendency to swell after the final process of varnishing has been gone through. When quite dry, fine glasspaper is used to reduce the surface to an almost polished level, after which some clear oil, having good drying qualities, is brushed lightly but completely over all portions of the fresh work. It will not be absolutely necessary that this should be quite dry and hard before proceeding with the varnishing down to the tint of the old and surrounding work. This being a separate and independent branch of the art of restoration, will be treated apart hereafter. For the present we will be content to know that this varnishing, a very delicate process in connection with the repair, is undertaken by the chief himself, who sets to work at once and in a manner as if it were a true labour of love, there being no hurry, but careful time-ignoring attention to matching and calculation of effect. Just before settling down with colours, essences, solvents and brushes, he gives directions to his man James to "finish up the crack or fracture in that old 'Stainer' lying on the shelf there behind." When it is taken down from its place of repose, James looks at it for a moment and then observes, "Rather an awkward job, this, sir! It is more than a crack along the whole length of the fiddle; somebody has been at it trying to mend it and made it positively worse. The edges are quite apart. You can see through in some places, and in others there is a lot of black hard glue." The chief now has a look over the damaged part and then remarks, "The thread of the pine happens to be very straight, and that will lessen the trouble." "Right, sir," is James's rejoinder, "not like that Genoese fiddle that we had some time back with the very curly bit of pine that looked as if the tree had been growing at the side of a rock and trying to look round the corner. Fitting a straight piece along the centre of that fiddle was no joke." "Well, James, wash all that filthy dark glue away, and when quite dry, run a thin chisel along each side of the hole, taking fine shavings off until the upright walls have a sharp clean edge." The washing out is at once commenced, and when finished, the upper table, which of course had been removed some time back for ascertaining the necessary amount of repairing, is placed apart for drying. While this is in process, another violin is taken in hand. It has a different kind of fracture, which it has been thought well for appearance sake should be re-opened and made tidy, in fact, obscured as much as present skill will allow of. The fracture, although not one of very common occurrence, is of a kind well known to professional repairers. It has been caused by a twist, possibly while being handled by some clumsy or heavy-handed repairer of olden times, and hastily filled with polluted glue, pressed together and left to itself. It is not at right angles with the plane of the instrument, but at a very acute one, very little evidence of it, possibly none, being seen from the inside. The first step taken by the repairer is the cleansing and removal of all foreign particles likely to interfere with the adhesion of the surfaces to be brought into contact. As there is present much grime, and this not free from a suspicion of the presence of grease, James has recourse to the bottle of benzine, into which he dips a small brush, working it backwards and forwards, wiping it on an absorbent rag and re-applying the liquid. This does not take very long; the evaporation being rapid, the wood is soon ready for the next stage, which is that of removing the dark glue and other foul matters from the irregular surface. This requires the application of warm water, by means of a stiffer implement, used in fact as a small scrubbing brush; the moisture between whiles is pressed in and out by the fingers with repeated wipings and re-wettings. After a while, being satisfied that the surfaces of the fracture are clean to the desired degree, James allows the wood to partially dry. In the meanwhile, he cuts a couple of pieces of wood to fit the back and front of the table, so that with folded paper as a pad the parts may be pressed together. All being in readiness, fresh strong glue is inserted all along the opening, the repeated pressing being kept up until he is sure that the glue has penetrated every part. The superfluous glue oozing from the inside, after a slight squeeze along the course, is lightly wiped off, the moulds applied back and front, and the cramps fixed. Other little odds and ends of repairing have occupied the attention of the assistant during the time of waiting for the drying of the before-mentioned upper table of the Stainer. This latter being of full model, although not resembling the swollen or bolster-like form of many imitations of the master, requires special attention with regard to fitting in of the fresh wood or core. The fresh wood must not be bent, or the matching of the grain with the old material will be impossible, and the repair when completed will be strikingly conspicuous. It must therefore be inserted in such a manner that when pared down, the direction or flow of the grain will exactly coincide in all respects with the rest of the table. The fact must be recognised that although the threads may be perfectly straight from end to end, yet they may rise higher at one end than the other or not run level with the plane of the table. (Diagram 37.) [Illustration: DIAGRAM 37, showing half length of core inserted before being pared down, and with grain.] This being duly calculated by James when cutting the piece that is to be inserted as a core, the table with its opening extending nearly from end to end is placed on an even surface facing upwards, as when on the instrument. The core is then tried in the aperture. Perhaps a thin shaving or two is found necessary, when finally it is sufficiently exact. The next stage is that of getting ready the means of holding or pressing all the parts together till dry after glueing. Taking a flat piece of wood, perhaps the one just used, and placing the table down, a pencil line is traced on the board round the violin table as if for the purpose of copying the pattern. Two straight lines are now ruled on each side touching the most projecting part of the upper and lower curve (Diagram 38.) [Illustration: DIAGRAM 38.] On the outside of each line, but touching it, a strip of wood about a quarter of an inch square is pegged or nailed down. The table or plate when placed flat between these two small bars of wood, is within an acute angle, and can be held tight or not according to the degree of pressure with which it is pushed toward the smaller end. It will at once be perceptible that a trifling pressure forward of the table towards the small end will result in the raising of the central part and the widening of the opening instead of closing it. There must be, therefore, some means adopted to counteract this, and these are not difficult to fix upon. In lieu of pressing the table forward with risk of damaging the part of the border that will come in contact with the two fixed bars, it will be carefully tried as to fitting the exact position it is to take when glued, that is, sufficiently forward in the space between the bars that will only admit the table with a slight rise in the arching, the joint or part holding the core being in a more open condition as a consequence. The exact place or point of contact is marked with a soft pencil or piece of chalk on border and bar. The table being taken away, the parts requiring it will be carefully glued. Placed in position again, necessary means are taken that the surface or plane on each side of the core are quite level with each other; if they are not so, they will, after the necessary paring down of the core has been completed, cause an ugly, uneven appearance. To prevent this, therefore, the parts must be adjusted by the application of the fingers on one side or the other, or gently tapped by a piece of wood sufficiently heavy until exactness of level is made sure. There is now necessary a weight to be applied along the whole length of the junction for keeping all in position until the glue is quite dry and hard. Any kind of weight may be applied, the smaller and heavier in proportion to size the better, as so much more can be seen when several are used instead of one and that of larger dimensions. These being placed in position, the table with its adjusted weights is placed away for drying. When time has elapsed for this to be satisfactorily accomplished the table is taken in hand again, the weights lifted off and a slight tap at the upper with a piece of soft wood will set it free. The part of the core now rising above the upper or varnished side of the table is pared down very gently, care being taken that the chisel does not work into the varnish on either side of the core, and that it is not driven against the grain, as by so doing the wood is nearly certain to be torn instead of cleanly shaven. A close examination of the surface is now made, if found quite satisfactory, it may receive its final polishing by the application of some very fine glass paper wrapped round a piece of cork, with a little clear oil dabbed on it. This will give a dead smooth surface. If the above directions are carried out with clean and sharp work, the line along the table marked by the presence of the core will be so slight as to appear little more than the thread of the wood, in the highest class of repairing it will be nearly exact. The part of the core projecting on the under side of the table is easily disposed of by a gouge in the same manner as described for the action of the chisel on the front. The operations just described are of a kind that should not be undertaken without considerable experience, as, indeed, ought to be the case with many other repairs, the requisite dexterity of handling not coming at once even with much natural ability. CHAPTER XVI. REPAIRING UNDERTAKEN BY PEOPLE IN BUSINESS NOT CONNECTED WITH THAT OF BOWED INSTRUMENTS--REMOVAL OF A FIXED SOUND POST--FITTING A FRESH PART OF WORM-EATEN RIB--BRINGING TOGETHER THE LOOSENED JOINT OF THE BACK WITHOUT OPENING THE VIOLIN. We will now move down to the front portion of the premises again, where the chief has been pondering over some instruments with damages of different kinds and degrees. Some have been sent for repair, but have nothing apparently wrong about them. The little note sent with them is simply to the effect that "they do not go well" and the owners would like them put in order. A tap is given here and there with his knuckles, and this kind of test is sufficient in one instance to get an acknowledgment from the violin itself that its ribs do not adhere to the back as they should. Another betrays no looseness anywhere, and there is no fracture perceptible on a close examination; this is put aside so that it may be strung up properly, when it will probably give out some distinct evidence of internal wrong, if not of some external injury, which being fresh and clean is not easily affected by mere tapping. In the midst of his meditations over the different possibilities, a gentleman enters accompanied by a young lady, probably his daughter, who carries a violin case. He enters upon his subject at once, saying:--"I have brought a violin for your inspection, it was left behind by a friend who went abroad some time back and he lately wrote over saying that my daughter might find it useful, as he had been told by his father that it was at one time an instrument with excellent sounding qualities. He is not a player and he kept it shut up for a long time and seemingly forgot all about it. We of course soon got the case from its hiding place, opened it and took the violin out. My daughter here found two strings had snapped and put on others. When she tried it with her bow, however, most unpleasant sounds came out. My daughter proposed that it should be taken to a shop in our neighbourhood where she gets her music; she says they are very nice people, and so she took it there and they told her 'it would be put in order by the next morning,' which of course seemed very prompt. My daughter has tried it since it came home, but it seems to have even less sound than before." "Let me have a look at it, please," says our chief. The violin is at once taken out of the case by the young lady and handed to him. The chief looks over it, turns it about once or twice, and asks: "Did you put this into the hands of a repairer who professed any knowledge of violins?" The answer is--"Well, the people that my daughter took it to said they had intrusted the violin to their best pianoforte repairer, who had worked in one of the principal manufactories in London." The chief observes: "A piano is very different to a violin, sir; the repairer of one has to deal with curved surfaces, and wood of two kinds only, the other with flat ones and other woods and metals." "I hope the treatment has not ruined the instrument, can it be restored, will it be of much value?" says the gentleman. "Well, it is not of much value as a musical instrument in its present condition, but when properly restored would command a considerable price. The restoration will cost some pounds and be a fairly good investment." "You had better do it and to your best ability," answers the gentleman, "and please send it home when done." The two visitors make their departure and then James is called for a moment by his chief, "Hi! James, just look at this bit of repairing." The assistant takes the violin in his hands, looks over it and laughs. "Not trained properly, sir, at mending; what a plaster it has got underneath the bridge! and there's a large one underneath the post too; there's strength there if nothing else." "Well, James, we must get both of those out and put something in more to the purpose, the gentleman wants it done well and we must make it sound properly to please him and his daughter. From the manner in which those patches are inserted and their thickness--they are stouter than the tables themselves--there would be very little tone. Well I never! they've glued the sound post in." This discovery caused a good laugh from both. "We must have the upper table off at once, James," continued the chief. "But how about the post, sir?" interposes his assistant; "it looks as if it will hold on tight." "Well, you must take a fine chisel and work it in two before you commence the opening." James retires to his corner, and taking up a small chisel stuck in a short handle of his own fitting, he inserts it carefully through the right sound-hole, chipping the post gradually down one side, then turning the violin round on the cushion, he works away at the post through the other, and although from the extra distance from this, the chisel has a weaker hold, there is less substance to work through, the greater part having been worked away at the first attack. The way is now clear for removing the upper table, which James does after some trouble in working his knife along between the edging and the upper part of the ribs, in consequence of the glueing having been done with a bountiful hand, and the parts pressed together tightly, so much so as to show very distinctly where the screw cramps had been wound up. The exposed interior is brought before the gaze of the chief, who looks at it for a while, then remarks, "Very bad, but I have seen the like often before, and suppose will do so many times again. "Give it a cleaning, James, they've fastened the plaster on to the dirty wood, and I expect the hold is very slight if at all in parts." "No, sir, I tapped it about, and found some hollow spaces that would admit my small knife; the plaster had not been cut evenly, and then not pressed equally all over. The back seems about as bad, although it being thick does not need any support." "No, James, the repairers, if we may give them such an honourable title, wanted to show that something had been done for the money charged. Give the interior a clean out with warm water and sponge, leave some wet rags over those plasters, and when the damp has soaked through, you can soon get your gouge underneath and pull them off, washing the surfaces afterwards." This having been done as requested, the two parts are again brought before the chief, who forthwith takes a pair of calipers; these he applies carefully to both upper and lower tables in turn, moving them over in all directions. "I declare, James," he then observes, "there is no necessity for any patches or plasters anywhere; there is a very weak upper rib that has been so knocked about by several mendings, and spoilt inside and out, besides being riddled by insects, that we must make or fix a fresh piece in its place. Now, this fiddle being worth the trouble, you must see if you can make the repair so neat as to be almost invisible even when closely examined." "Well, sir, I'll try at it," is the reply, this being a kind of repair that James will take much pleasure in, to show his dexterity of handling and clean cutting. The first thing is to hunt among some pieces of old ribs for a part that will match well. This takes some time. At last an old rib is found that appears just the thing--a part of it only will be required. The next requisite is a mould or piece of wood cut exactly to the curve of the inside of the rib; this must not be roughly done, or any idea of "near enough" being thought of; if it does not fit exactly, then the pressure to come against it will be unequal in parts. If cut from a little block of soft wood the cutting will not take long, and the trouble be amply repaid by the result. An exterior mould will be as necessary as an interior, and if the original rib is of fairly equal substance, the two moulds may be tried one against the other, and should fit nicely. The ragged openings and rotten part of the original rib having been carefully examined with regard to the size of the fresh piece to be inserted, a line is marked by soft chalk as to the position and extent to be covered by the fresh wood. The aperture to admit the fresh piece of rib must be determined upon exactly, and be cut with the utmost neatness. Before doing this, however, the question must be gone into, and settled definitely, as to whether the fresh piece is to be pressed on from the outside or from the inside. The choice must be in favour of the more convenient, or that which will be most likely to lead to the best results. As the sides of the aperture taken longitudinally must be cut at an acute angle and not upright, the convenience of cutting the edges of the opening from the outside will be decidedly better and more handy for obtaining the desirable sharpness of edge. As a matter of course, the piece must be tried on again and again until it is clearly a good fit all round. When in a satisfactory state it will, when tried finally, be elevated a trifle above the surrounding wood. The angle at which the upper and lower portions fit has no need to be cut so acutely as at the ends. Everything being ready, including some strong clean glue, this latter will require painting over the surfaces that are to be closed together until absorption has ceased, and not before this are the parts to be brought home, or the absorption or soaking into the wood will continue, leaving no glue for holding the two surfaces. When quite ready, the interior block of wood or mould will be held in position by the hand. As usual, the piece of paper on the face of the mould will be used for preventing the glue holding on to it. The piece of fresh rib is now placed in position, and the outer mould (faced with paper, of course), applied. The screw cramps are now affixed, tightly wound up, and left for drying. After ascertaining that all the glued parts are perfectly dry and therefore hard, the cramps, moulds and paper may be removed. If any paper should be found adhering a moistened rag will easily remove it. The next proceeding will be that of levelling down and removing any unevenness, on the outside especially. If the fitting has been very accurately effected there will not remain much to do in this line. For the inside a piece of glass-paper folded over a curved block of wood, or the actual mould that has been in use, will serve the purpose if not too large. This can be rubbed backward and forward till the surface is level. For the outside a slightly different treatment will be preferable, that is, a portion of glass-paper of the finest grain placed as before in front of a block of wood. There is no necessity for it being a very close fit so long as it is even in surface. This should have some oil of a drying nature put on the surface, a little dabbed on with the tip of the finger will be enough. A fine surface, after a little passing backward and forward over it, adding a little oil now and then, will be obtained. The advantage of the use of oil is, firstly, the ease in use and the smoothness of the surface and absence of harshness, secondly, as it will have penetrated the wood to some extent it will prevent the varnish, that eventually will have to be applied, from sinking into the pores. Many otherwise excellent repairs have been spoilt from the neglect of this simple precaution; without it, the glass-paper leaves a dry, finely torn or raw surface which absorbs very readily the coloured varnish that will, in sinking, look much more intense, uneven and totally unlike the surrounding old varnish, which, it is most desirable, should be as closely as possible imitated. All these particulars, rules, and precautions, having been carefully attended to by James, the instrument is at last brought by him in as advanced a state as possible to his master, the latter always reserving to himself the final touches or finishing and regulating. About this time another caller, an amateur in a state of great excitement, brings a violin case hurriedly in, and coming up to the chief without any ceremony, says, while undoing the buckle of the straps binding the leather covering: "Oh, my favourite violin is ruined, its back is broken, and I feel sure you can't do it up; it is a Venetian Montagnana that I have had so many years, and that you--yes, even you--admired. You don't say much as a rule in favour of anything I bring you, but you said this was the only good thing I had about me; it is past your power to put right again, I am afraid." "Then why did you bring it to me," says the chief, "if it is impossible for me to remedy the breakage? let me see it." The case having been nervously opened by the owner, the violin, after a glance, is lifted out by the chief, the owner looking on in a state of great perturbation. "Please be very careful," he says, as the practised hand of the master turns it about, looks at it here and there, over one way and then the other. "Why, its back is not broken; where is the fracture?"--"Don't you see, all the way down, it is quite loose and open?" Another turn round or so, and the chief exclaims, "Oh, you mean the joint of the back is open--that is not broken; I did not see it at first as the light was going in the same direction; we can put that right again for you."--"Here, James!" he calls out, "just look at this; is it past our mending?" James casts his eye over it for a second or two, and says, "No sir, I've done up that kind o' thing over and over again." Then, turning to the owner, "Two against one, you see." The amateur looks at the instrument with great earnestness for a moment or two, then observes: "You will have, I suppose, to take it all to pieces to do that kind of repair, eh?" "Oh no," replied the chief, "we shall close that up without undoing any part of it except taking the strings and sound-post away." At this moment he has inserted the post-setter and pushed the post a little, which proceeding causes the back to open wider, the mouth of the owner opening widely also, accompanied by an increase in the general appearance of anguish. "There now," says the repairer, "just that little extra pressure from the sound-post enables us to see how far the opening extends; it is not all the way along, and there does not appear to be anything to prevent it coming together evenly again." The chief now dexterously, with the point of the "setter," takes the sound-post out, the owner looking on with some amount of astonishment. "You call in the day after to-morrow, sir, and I hope you will find it as right as ever." These words have a cheering effect on the owner. "You are sure that will not be too soon," he observes. "Oh no," replies the other, "we shall put three or four studs along the centre, inside, and that will prevent it going again." "But how," rejoins the owner, "are you going to put studs along the joint inside without opening the instrument?"--he was getting interested. "Well, you leave that to us, sir, and we will tell you afterwards." This was said in consequence of a fear that the amateur would be using the time of the establishment, and as a result the amateur and owner walked away satisfied. CHAPTER XVII. INSERTION OF STUDS ALONG THE JOINT INSIDE WITHOUT OPENING THE VIOLIN--LINING OR VENEERING A THIN BACK. At the appointed time, not any earlier, the amateur makes his appearance, inquiring somewhat anxiously as to whether the violin was finished, or more precisely speaking from fear, whether the repairer had succeeded in restoring the instrument to playing order? "Oh, yes," is the response, "and goes better than it could have done for some time back. You see its complaint has been coming on for some time, beginning with a slight opening at the lower part, and continuous playing with the strain of tuning up now and then extended it, until the time when it became of such magnitude that you could not help observing it. Being gradual in its progress, the tone getting worse by gentle degrees, was also unobserved by you." On this, the violin being handed to its owner, a close examination is made all over the outside, and through the sound-holes. "Well, really," the owner at last breaks out with, "it is most beautifully done! I should not have thought it possible, and however did you manage to get all those little squares of wood ranged in a line inside, and you said you would do it without breaking open the violin, and--tell me how it was done!" "Then I will keep my promise if you have patience. It is not a very difficult matter to those used to such things; you see the first thing was to get the outer part clear of any impurities that would prevent the glue from getting a tight hold of the surfaces that are to be held in contact; the next, to work some strong glue along the course of the joint, this by gentle and regular pressure alternately each side of the line, is gradually drawn in, the whole length is then wiped with a cloth and pressure applied to keep the joint closed, and the whole allowed to dry. When so, the interior is attended to, a clean damp brush, small enough to pass down either of the sound-holes, is worked backwards for a short time along the joint, just enough to remove the slight accumulation of dust and prepare the wood for the reception of glue. Then the little squares of sycamore being ready, are pricked in the centre with this pointed iron wire, and taken up one by one; on each occasion a globule of strong glue is dropped on the under surface. "The wire with its attachment of stud and globule is carefully passed down through the sound-hole, which one must depend much on circumstances and light available, being cautiously lowered until the little square of wood is exactly over the joint and gently pressed down on to it. "Care is taken, of course, to place it on the exact spot; if not accurately in position, a slight push with the same wire or another or greater strength is given, and then a little more pressure on the top. "When this is done, others are inserted in the same way, and as far along the joint as can be reached with the wires. After having dried, the glue which had oozed up round the square will be found to have decreased so much as to be but little perceptible--thus you see how it was done. Do not try this yourself unless you have become expert by long practice in repairing generally, as you may probably find this more taxing to your nerves than you may be aware of, besides finding it a difficult and dirty job getting any mislaid pieces out again." This last piece of friendly advice is quite to the taste of the amateur, who, being a non-practical man, is wise in abstaining from meddling in directions for which he has no natural bent, and unlike the numerous tribe of would-be repairers who think that any person who can use glue and cut a piece of wood can engage in the restoration of such a small instrument as a violin. Our amateur, when arrived home, naturally enough shows his restored violin to his friends, one of whom has been looking at it for some time, and at last says: "That's the repairer for me, where does he live? My violin is sadly in want of proper attention, and I think it requires stronger measures for its cure than yours." The address is readily given, and the instrument duly taken round to our chief and his assistant. The statement having been made as to recommendation, after an inspection of the very nice restoration of his friend's violin, the new-comer takes out his violin from its case and places it before the chief, who turns it over and over, looking at each fraction of an inch without seeing much the matter with it. The owner at last breaks in with the remark that a violin maker residing where he lately came from had told him that the instrument would never go properly unless the back was re-lined--that was perhaps the term used. The chief then rejoins: "I think the repairer was very likely hitting the mark when he said that; this is one of those old violins of the Brescian school, which are often too thin in the back for modern usage, and there is no other resource but that of lining--or veneering, some would call it--the back. If you like I will open it, and ascertain whether it is so with this instrument." Consent is given, and the chief goes to the back of his premises, and returns with a much-worn table knife. Sitting calmly down before the new arrival, and resting the instrument face downwards on his lap, he proceeds with sundry slow but strong thrusts of the knife round the junction of the ribs with the upper table; the cracking sounds emitted as the knife gradually works its way along are rather trying to the owner, who, however, has confidence in the reputation of the master-hand at the kind of work. After a little extra pushing here and there, and lifting gently to ascertain whether the parting is complete, the upper table is at last lifted quite clear of the rest. The owner at once asks, "Is the back in a very bad state?" "Well," is the reply, "it is in such a dirty condition that it is not possible to tell.--Here, James, bring me that water and sponge!" These being at once brought, with a cloth in addition, the chief at once begins bathing the inside, giving a heavier rub in different parts, as some appearances suggest the extra treatment. At last, after some few minutes of this application, the cloth is applied, and the interior assumes a cleaner aspect. "Never being cleaned out since it was made, I should think," is the observation, "excepting once," he adds, as his practised eye lights on a small, but thick stud resting over a small crack at one side, "and that was a very long time ago, possibly a hundred and fifty years." "Does it require the 'lining'--I think that is what it was called?" "Yes, it will be so much better for it, almost necessary." The owner soon after departs, and the chief and his assistant proceed to work upon the violin. In general condition it happens to be very good, the one opening referred to being the time at which the modern bar had been attached in place of the very old and small-sized one. The fingerboard being old is easily removed by a sudden pull or jerk. After further cleaning with the aid of a hog-hair brush, this being adapted for getting more completely into the corners, both parts of the violin--they have both had a cleaning and looks more wholesome--are placed aside to dry. When this has taken place to the satisfaction of both master and man, the back is rubbed over with an oiled rag, the object of this being to prevent the mould now to be taken from sticking to it. Some good plaster of Paris is mixed, and a sufficient quantity placed on it till a coating an inch and a half in thickness is produced; this amount is necessary owing to the tendency to get out of form or warp if too thin, failures having often resulted therefrom. When well hardened, this mould is lifted off; it comes away easily, showing a perfect facsimile in reverse of the back of the violin. This is carefully wiped, and any small specks of plaster that may be adhering are picked off. The mould has now to be dried, as it would otherwise--from the large amount of moisture within it--undo the back, or any cracks that may have been glued up. Placing in a moderately warm oven is as good a method as any, the natural drying by open air, even in sunny weather, being a long process. After being tested and found to contain no moisture whatever, the mould is placed upon a bench, and the surface which has been in contact with the curved form of the back receives a slight oiling with a brush. This will prevent as much as possible injury to the varnished surface of the violin when placed in it. This may be further helped by a sheet of soft paper or soft cotton being placed between, when the back of the violin is laid in the mould. Before proceeding further, there will necessarily be the preparations made in connection with the piece of veneer that is to be glued to the back. In order that this may be as equally as possible pressed into the shape, there must be another mould made; this will be of some soft wood that will cut easily into shape, and be made to fit as near as can be to the back. Next a layer or portion of cork about one-eighth of an inch thick, and large enough to cover the whole of the veneer, will be required. Some repairers would prefer india rubber or other yielding substances, which will fit into any unevenness while sustaining great pressure. This last will be caused by the press or large cramp, which must be very strong. All the foregoing being ready to hand, the veneer being cut down to the amount required, perhaps to a pencilled line marked on it for width and length, it will be wetted; being of slight substance, it will soon absorb sufficient moisture to remain damp during and over the time the other preparations are made. All being in readiness, the back being laid down accurately in its bed of hard plaster of Paris, the cloth or paper having been placed between, the cleansed and dried surface of the table is brushed over with the strong glue which, if the apartment is of sufficiently high temperature, will not coagulate or set, but give time for the brushing of glue on one side of the veneer. This is at once placed in position on the glued surface of the violin table; it is then covered with some thin, soft paper, the cake of cork or india rubber being laid over it. More carefully than all, the carved piece of wood that is to be pressed down must be exactly in its right place, and above this, other slices, so that the pressure may be distributed well, and not merely on one spot. For this a goodly pile will be of advantage; to be quite scientific in its proportion, an imaginary line drawn from the central point of the pressure above to the outside or margin of the field of pressure at the lowest part, should not be at more than an angle of forty-five degrees. Attention being paid to the foregoing, and the press or large screw cramp being already in position, the pressure, which must be great, is applied. The glue will be seen oozing out between the surfaces of the table and its veneer; this can be wiped off easily, and save the trouble of removal when dry and hard. Necessarily, a longer time will be consumed in thorough drying and hardening in a case like this than in an ordinary repair in which the atmosphere can more readily obtain access. When quite ready, the pressure and the pieces of wood, paper, cork, or indiarubber can be one by one released, and the simple veneer, now firmly attached to the lower table of the violin, can have its edges trimmed round with gouge, chisel, or scraper, and finally glass-papered to a good finish. When neatly done, the edging of the veneer will decline gradually in thickness, and die off all round. There is nothing further to be done now, but seeing that the bar is right in proportion, position, and fitting. CHAPTER XVIII. THE BAR IN OLDEN TIMES--THE MODERN ONE--THE OPERATION OF FITTING AND FIXING THE BAR--CLOSING AND COMPLETION OF THE REPAIRS--VARNISHING OF THE REPAIRED PARTS HAVING FRESH WOOD. Much false reasoning upon insufficient premises has at times on and off been bestowed upon the subject of the bar and its supposed mysteries. Space at command will not allow of a dissertation on this detail of the constitution of the violin. A few remarks will perhaps be sufficient for present purposes. When violins were first sent forth by their inventor, Gasparo da Salo, the bar was sometimes omitted, possibly in all the earliest ones, the strain on the upper table being then slight as compared with that of the present day--at others it was very short and weak. The substance of the upper table was considerable, and much over that which the later and modern makers approve of, and thus there was a counter-balance. At the present time still stronger bars are inserted, and very frequently without rule or reason. Occasionally a coarse bar will allow of good results as regards the emission of the tone, the length and thickness happening to be suitable to the proportions in detail of the instrument. A weakness at each end of the bar is an oft-recurring cause of bad going with regard to the vibrations. From this we may infer that when the bar was first thought of and inserted it was simply with an idea of supporting the part over which the third and fourth strings were stretched, and that as the tension of the strings became greater in consequence of the rise in the pitch, so the bar had to be increased in strength, that is, longer and deeper. The discovery or unearthing of an old master in its original condition will therefore be followed by the opening and re-barring for the emission of the tone according to modern ideas; these may be summed up as the getting of the largest amount of tone accompanied by freedom of vibration or ring. As the removal of a defective or weakly bar and its renewal and fixing in accordance with the best knowledge of the subject is an operation that should be seldom attempted by other than an experienced professional repairer, it may be as well to pay another visit to our chief and his assistant, James. After some lapse of time we find on looking in at the establishment that there is no perceptible change in the working or general routine; violins innumerable have come and gone and still seem likely to do so for ever. The chief has been occupying a few minutes looking through a newspaper, not so much in connection with his business, which, as no doubt will have long since been perceived, is a private or personal one, he is simply keeping up with the times in reading about what is going on outside his own little world. James, notwithstanding his lesser amount of artistic and scientific knowledge than the chief, has been steadily improving in his own way, that of implicitly following directions put forward for his guidance and given with so many axioms, the result of long experience and watchfulness. It is a warm day and really heavy work would not be to the disposition of either master or man. Looking through the doorway into the workshop at the back, James can be seen sitting as quietly and contentedly as his master in the front. He is engaged on some fitting of small pieces into some fractures of the upper table of a Stradivari. Having been told to do them neatly, cleanly and with every precaution, experience and deft handling of tools, he has got these latter into nice cutting order. The finest and even semi-transparent shavings will have to come from the fractures and the portions of wood to be inserted therein. James has by this time acquired considerable neatness in the treatment of "delicate jobs," as he calls such as the present. His tools have had special attention in the keenness of their edge and he thinks that when all is finished the violin will be as good as new, and very little of the damage done while in charge of the owner will be perceptible unless hunted for. He argues within himself that the greatest amount of expenditure of muscle work and fitting together of ever so many parts has been done by himself, and therefore the honour ought to be principally his, in fact the fiddle is more of his make than that of old Strad. His ruminations are stopped rather suddenly by the voice of the chief, who calls out, "I say, James, what about the re-barring of the Maggini that Miss Winks left a week back?" "Well, sir, she called again yesterday, and said she didn't think it would be done, because we seemed slow people, but intended to call again in three days." "Perhaps you had better set to work, James. Have you got everything ready for placing the bar?" "Yes, sir, everything except the bar itself, which is not cut to shape yet." "Well, let me see it. Is it of nice straight grain and from the stock of that old Italian?" "Yes, I've picked out a piece that appears to me just the thing; it only wants the curve cutting to fit the upper table, and that is quite clean and regular without any slips of the tool in cutting the old one out, which I think was the original one." The chief gives two or three glances over the work, his accustomed eye being ready to catch any little fault likely to have been made by his man. "That surface, James, for a Maggini, is remarkably even; as often as not the gouge marks are left, making a close fit of the bar an impossibility, let me see the bar." The piece of wood is produced; the Maggini being a full fourteen inches in length of body, the proposed bar is cut to ten and a half inches in length and seems to the chief to be satisfactory. "You can now go on, James; let me see the bar before you glue it in." The upper table of the Maggini and the bar are taken away by James, who goes at once to work with the necessary preparation for placing the bar in position correctly. With a rather soft lead pencil he marks off the length from each end of the table that the bar will occupy, that is, a little over at the lower end than the upper, the exact distance from the joint or central line, a trifle, perhaps eighth of an inch nearer at the upper part, letting the middle or thickest part of the bar be at the spot where the foot of the bridge will rest. After this the bar, at present straight and about three-quarters of an inch high all along its course, has marked upon the part that has to remain uppermost some indication to the fancy of the operator that will keep in mind which end is to be placed at the upper part. This being done, he commences with a chisel to cut away portions at each end, and tries on the surface of the part to be fitted to. After two or three times the chiselling has to be more finely done until the closest fit possible is obtained; it is then ready for fixing. The bar is as yet quite straight along the upper part. With regard to the levelling of the bar to the curve of the interior part of the upper table, there used to be a custom in the repairing business of "putting the bar in with a spring" as it was termed. The repairers always spoke of it as "the regular thing to do," but on being asked questions as to how much and under what circumstances the "spring" would be best one way or the other, became somewhat reticent, possibly from fear of being led into some scientific depths from which it might not be easy to extricate themselves. James, however, has been taught differently in the management of this portion of his work; he having found from close examination that the rise of the curving on the outside on the bar side was quite high enough, went on with the operation. Had the bar side been in a sunken condition, his chief would have required him to restore the elevation by the wetting process before alluded to. The accessories, glue and cramps being in readiness, two pieces of thick hard brown paper are folded together to go over the varnished surface of the upper table. This will be quite thick enough, as any more will cause a liability to press the bar into the wood when under the influence of the damp of the glue. This result is often seen in violins that have been through the hands of inexperienced repairers, there being an elevation at each end where the bar terminates when the violin has been strung up. Cramps are used of sufficient width for reaching over the border at each end and quite on to the end of the bar. James, after his repeated trials as to the closeness of the relation of the curve of the bar to that of the table, takes it to the chief as commanded, who expresses his satisfaction and orders the completing process to be gone through. The curved surface of the bar is wetted and some glue placed along, the part of the table with which it is to be in contact is also wetted, but not much. After a few minutes for the glue to soak in, the final glueing is done along the course on the table and the curved course of the bar; the latter is then placed in position and first one cramp at one end is fixed, then the other; the screwing down is very gently done, James, from experience, knowing just how much and no more. The hard brown paper between the cramps and their padded or corked ends prevents any injury to the varnish. For the central and adjacent portions of the bar to be pressed, James uses at times wooden cramps with a longer reach, and treating all parts of the bar with gentle but sufficient pressure, being meanwhile careful that the pressure is not directed on one side but direct downwards; he knows that if this is not strictly attended to, the bar will be twisted and when dry, or even finished, will not appear straight but curved along its course. James having seen that this part of the operation has proceeded satisfactorily, places the table away to dry, and when so, the cramps are removed and the table examined by the chief. All being assumed to be satisfactory, James is told to go on with the shaping down of the bar, which is done with a chisel held with the bevel downwards, this being safer and less likely to slip. This having been done to the curving desired by the chief, the glass-papering to a nice even surface and finish is proceeded with, and the operation may be said to be completed. We now come to the closing down of the upper table. This last is a final process that when done clumsily, hurriedly, or in many ways improperly, has been the cause of much damage, if not positive destruction, to many good or valuable works of the great masters and others. Before deciding upon the precise moment for this important stage of repairing, there should be a most careful investigation of the condition of the whole of the interior of the instrument. Without this there is the possibility of fine splinters of wood, or cracks, being left unattended to that may announce themselves when all is supposed to be in readiness for the bow, by a jarring, or, when the bow is applied, by a buzzing which will take all the knowledge, experience and guessing, perhaps more, that can be brought to bear upon the matter without any practical result, excepting perhaps that of the necessity of re-opening. If found out before closing down, neighbouring parts should be rigidly examined, as a slight, almost invisible fracture, will, on testing, be frequently found to be much more extensive than was at first suspected. Gentle tappings may be tried and testings of resistance to bending at the same, keeping the light at right angles to enable the slightest opening or fracture to show itself and be at once placed under treatment. When every test proves the instrument to be sound and ready for closing up, preparations may be commenced. There is probably no one of the different details of repairing that gives more evidence than this of the kind of workman engaged upon it. It may almost be said that this is rarely done as it ought to be in the manner that can be described as being good in every way for the purpose, and neatly done. The bad manner of closing has been, more frequently than any other, the means of putting the whole instrument out of order, gradually distorting, if not actually bringing it to ruin as a work of art, and to destruction as a means of producing good musical sounds. Judging by the ways adopted by many inferior grades of repairers, professional and amateur, the closing down of the upper table is thought to be a trifling matter and simply that of passing some glue on a brush rapidly round where the ribs are to come into contact with the table, clapping it down, placing the cramps round, screwing them tight, and, if the weather is cold, acting with more rapidity. Ten minutes may be said to be the average time that this performance takes, and in the majority of cases is thought to be a good one. But not so by a really competent, painstaking repairer. From his view this operation is to be one of the most cautiously conducted ones in the whole series of joinings in connection with the repairing or constructing of the violin. As with other processes, there is more than one way of doing a thing and that well. I recollect in early days being acquainted with an exceeding dexterous amateur in cabinet making, the principal part of whose furniture, in a large house, was his own individual and unaided workmanship. He also combined with this the making of violins, and of them I have a recollection of their exceedingly neat workmanship, being, in fact, ahead in that respect of many professional makers of the time. I often received from him hints as to the best methods of overcoming many little mechanical difficulties. Once I was telling him about the dexterous manipulation required in fixing accurately and swiftly the upper table. There was the difficulty of getting perhaps the two end parts in position and fixing with sufficient rapidity before the glue had stiffened or set at the other parts. He asked me why I wanted "to do this all at once, instead of a part at a time? He never did it." He then proceeded to show me that the glue might be applied to the two end blocks and the corresponding parts of the table that were to be affixed, and these cramped exactly and with comparative ease, in their proper position. This being done, a very thin worn table knife could be used for working in glue at the other parts and the cramping down proceeded with as before. Another way suggested itself to me some time after, which in careful hands would be still more adapted for accurate fitting. It is as follows:--Having seen that the opposing surfaces or parts that are to be affixed to each other are quite level, fit each other, have been cleaned and are free from any oiliness or greasy particles, the glue is neatly brushed round the parts requiring it, both upper table and ribs being treated. The corner and end blocks, if new, will require more than one coating, and these to be allowed to dry, as the end of the grain is very absorbent. Assuming that the glue is sufficient in quantity all round, it may be allowed to dry. The upper table can now be tested for a good fit by laying it, and noticing whether the marginal projection over the ribs is regular or not; in some instances a little humouring or averaging of this projection has to be made, especially when the instrument is very old, and bears evidence of much trouble under the hands of repairers of different degrees of skill, experience and patience. This being found satisfactory, a slight brushing of thin glue over the upper and lower end blocks will be enough before placing the table in position and cramping them down. For the other parts the thin knife will be sufficient, wetted and worked between, the cramps being applied as before. This way of closing up dispenses with all cause for hurry. The exact amount of glue can be calculated without danger of over-loading, and the next necessary opening for repairs can be effected without the least risk of damage to the margin of the upper table. By this method there is no occasion for wiping superfluous glue from underneath the over-lapping edge, as there will not be any perceptible, or, indeed, present, when tidily done. Sufficient time being allowed for drying--a little longer for the end blocks, these being more hidden and slowly affected by the atmosphere--the cramps may be removed. As a final process, the varnishing over the parts that have been repaired may be touched upon. The success of this so much depends upon the natural talent of the operator for matching colours and mixing of different gums for obtaining as close as possible resemblance to the surrounding work, that any hard and fast rules concerning it cannot be laid down. An alcoholic mixture is almost invariably used for the covering of raw repairs, time scarcely ever being available for the use of an oil varnish. The most commonly used basis is a lac varnish. The ease with which this is dissolved and manipulated is a temptation to use it at times when it would be the least desirable for the imitation of old varnish. One great fault in connection with it is its retaining a glare on the surface when hardened, and the undesirable aspect is given of polished spots where repairs have been going on. There is only one way of counteracting this--by mixing other gums or resins that have less or but little glare when hard. Those of a very astringent quality should be avoided, as when dry their pulling power or contraction is very great, and a cracked surface not at all like the rich fused appearance of many of the old masters, but dry and uninteresting, will make itself too evident. By a carefully-calculated mixture of soft and hard gums, with a little transparent colouring matter when necessary, a very good if not highly successful imitation of the surrounding work can be accomplished, such as will prevent the repair "catching the eye" too soon, for it must do so eventually when hunted for. The density of colouring and thickness of the principal component parts must always be studied, as the same depth of tint by a very thin layer as that of a thick one will not have the same effect, and one or the other, when making a contrast with the adjacent old surface, will be conspicuous as a failure. A few hints may be acceptable as to material and the management of it. We will assume, for instance, that a portion of the upper table of a rather deep brown-red old master has been repaired, and a slice of comparatively light coloured or new wood has been inserted as a necessity, the grain as a matter of course having been matched to the best of the ability of the repairer. The first step taken will be that of putting a nice clean even surface over the fresh wood, and in such a manner, that on passing the hand or finger over it, no lumps, edges, or rough spots are felt. Having brushed the dust or powdered wood away, the colour of the wood will have to be lowered or subdued, otherwise the whiteness will obtrude itself and stare through any carefully selected varnish. This, for good effect, will be found advisable with the repairing of any old instrument. The precautions to be taken at this stage are respecting the quality or disposition of the stain (as we may call it). The stains ordinarily sold for colouring wood are quite useless for present purposes, as they are absorbed between the threads, leaving these by contrast very light and the reverse of what is desirable. A very weak solution in water of bichromate of potash will lower the colour sufficiently for most purposes, and when quite dry the wood will (having swelled with the moisture) require the fine glass-papering again, after which, the next stage can be proceeded with. The solution of nitric acid in water should be avoided, as, although giving a fairly good lowering of the tint, it destroys the soft parts of the wood, and, further, causes an odour that may cause annoyance to the musician and suspicion to the expert. Another solution may be recommended, that of the black liquorice, which is a transparent brown, and naturally hard. Judgment will have to be exercised in the management of either of the above solutions that they are not put on too heavily. The staining being effected, a slight coat of a diluted or light tint of the upper or deeply coloured varnish may be painted over and left to dry. If time is not an important item for consideration, a turpentine varnish may be applied. An excellent first colouring can be effected with the transparent preparation of gamboge. This material has for long, perhaps always, been in request for coloured varnish, as it can be used with (after due preparation) either alcohol, turpentine or oil. If dissolved in the last, the drying will take so long as to be practically useless to the repairer. The turpentine solution is more rapid, but not sufficiently so for the restorer under ordinary circumstances. It will be therefore plain that an alcoholic solution of gums or resins will have to be relied on for obtaining the best results when time is limited. The solution of gamboge in alcohol is, when used alone, too weak or insufficient in body; it is therefore advisable to incorporate with it some other material of a resinous or gummy nature, but such as will not impair the transparency. Among the most useful are the bleached or white shellac. This, as it leaves the manufactory, is not always in a condition for immediate use by the restorer; it should be washed in water and then dried well, pounded up and placed in a bottle with about four-fifths of alcohol; after remaining in solution for some days the clear portion can be poured into another bottle and retained for use. This, when used alone in its colourless condition, will possibly have, when dry, too much glare upon its surface, but the colouring matters put into it may oppose this sufficiently. The use of a little gum guacum in solution will be found occasionally advantageous; this gum is fairly hard and will lower the colour and prevent too much of an approach to gaudiness, that is, if a highly coloured varnish has been found necessary. When it is desirable to dispense with lac of any kind in the varnish, other materials can be found that will perhaps answer the purpose as well, if not better; a solution of benzoin has no colour sufficient in itself and therefore may be used as a priming or mixing with the gamboge or with dragon's blood if that is desirable; the latter, like the gamboge, requires something to give it body. Dragon's blood will soon let the operator know that its power of colouring to a staring degree will require suppression. To lessen its strength the following may be taken as an excellent means, and will reduce the violence _ad libitum_. With a lighted candle, wax for preference, smoke a piece of clean glass, and with a camel hair brush remove the black and stir it carefully with the coloured varnish. Care must be taken that too large a quantity is not put in, or an unpleasant tone, even blackness, will be the result. With regard to the strength of the red, the same precautions must be taken: on comparing the varnish of a very red old master of Italy, say a Landolphi, with some made with a fairly strong solution of resin and dragon's blood, the violence of colour in the latter will be very apparent. At a little distance off the old master will look very modest while the other will seem coarse and vulgar. For softening purposes a very small quantity of gum thrus may be used, too much will result in tackiness. For hardening, sandarac has its place and usefulness, although, as with the naturally soft gums and resins which return to their original condition after the solvent has evaporated, great care must be taken to use a very small proportion. A mixture of sandarac and shellac will result in an extremely hard and almost insoluble varnish, a very undesirable covering for a musical instrument of any kind as it wears badly, that is, suddenly and harshly with a rough fractured edge, instead of the gentle thinning-away under usage, seen with a delicate yielding material. Acroydes is an Australian "grass gum," with very little recommendation, as in any considerable amount, it impairs the transparency of the other gums with which it may be mixed. For a brown colour, a little burnt sugar will give a good tint, although too much will spoil the consistency of the other ingredients, and the whole will be easily affected by damp. Aloes, of which there are several kinds, have been used as a colouring ingredient, but the results are not on the whole to be considered as good. Of the different lacs, or as it ought to be termed, condition of the resin, as they are all from the same source, seed lac and garnet lac, in proportion with other resins, will be found to have considerable colouring matter and requiring very little in addition. For our present purposes, those of varnishing fresh parts of injured violins, the above mentioned component materials will be found, when in good proportion, according to the experience of the operator, to be nearly all that would be desirable in imitating the surrounding work. There is nothing that can be suggested to enable a careless or incompetent repairer to achieve good results without care or calculation, and these two are an absolute necessity when the repair and restoration of a violin at all worthy of the name is the subject in hand. Innumerable effects may be obtained by changing the proportion of groundwork or priming, and top or coloured varnish. As the celebrated old Italian varnish was not one kind but very many different kinds, it is more than probable that the different results obtained by the celebrated liutaros consisted to a greater extent in the manner of the application than any wonderful quality of material. Of this subject much might be written which would fill many times over the capacity of our present volume. A few words more may be said in conclusion regarding the varnishing of new work on old violins; it must not be supposed that for the imitation of the surrounding work an exact repetition of the old Italian process with the identical substances used by the liutaros would be absolutely necessary for perfect or near success; it must be borne in mind that old varnish near the spot with its partial decay, probably from many causes, has to be imitated, and that what would be a great success with regard to a small space, might in all probability prove a signal failure when the whole instrument is so treated. As a final stage, a freshly varnished portion (and over newly inserted wood), will require a little rubbing down (as it is termed); this may be done with some of the finest and worn glass-paper, finely ground pumice and oil, with a last turn of tripoli powder or rotten stone with oil. This should be done only when the varnish is quite dry and hard. THE END. ADVERTISEMENTS. FOURTEENTH YEAR OF ISSUE. _The Largest Circulation in the World of any paper amongst Violinists_. THE STRAD _A Monthly Journal for Professionals and Amateurs of all Stringed Instruments played with the Bow_. Published on the First of every Month. Price 2d., Annual Subscription, Post Free, 2s. 6d. For the Colonies and Abroad. 3s. THE STRAD is the only recognised organ of the string family and has subscribers in every country of the civilised world. Our circulation has increased to so great an extent that we are enabled to engage as contributors THE LEADING WRITERS in the VIOLIN WORLD. THE STRAD contains technical articles by the leading artists. THE STRAD, in the answers to Correspondents column, gives minute information by Experts on every detail connected with the Violin. THE STRAD gives all the important doings of Violinists at home and abroad all the year round. THE STRAD gives early critical notices of all important New Music for Stringed Instruments, with numbers to show the grade of difficulty of every piece. The following serial articles now appearing: Joseph Guarnerius. By HORACE PETHERICK. This series of articles contains a minute critical analysis of this great maker's work, and the author claims to have discovered in Andreas Gisalberti (a maker almost unknown at the present day), the teacher of Joseph Guarnerius, a conclusion arrived at after the most convincing evidence, which he puts forward in a very able and readable manner. Full page illustrations of violins by Joseph Guarnerius and Andreas Gisalberti are given. Selected Violin Solos and How to Play them. By BASIL ALTHAUS, F.C.V. Illustrated with music examples. Specimen Copy, 2-1/2d., Post Free. All Subscriptions, Advertisements, etc., to be addressed to the Manager, HARRY LAVENDER, 3, Green Terrace, Rosebery Avenue, London, E.C. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. I. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ _"THE STRAD" LIBRARY EDITION is the only Authorised Edition of_ Technics of Violin Playing ON JOACHIM'S METHOD BY CARL COURVOISIER, With Folding Plates, containing Fifteen Illustrations. LETTER FROM DR. JOACHIM [COPY] MY DEAR MR. COURVOISIER: I have read the book on Violin Playing you have sent me, and have to congratulate you sincerely on the manner in which you have performed a most difficult task, _i.e._, to describe the best way of arriving at a correct manner of playing the violin. It cannot but be welcome to thoughtful teachers, who reflect on the method of our art, and I hope that your work will prove useful to many students. Believe me, my dear Mr. Courvoisier, to be most faithfully yours, JOSEPH JOACHIM. Berlin, November 3rd, 1894. The New and Revised Edition of "Technics of Violin Playing," issued by THE STRAD, is the only authorised edition of my work. The several English Editions which have all appeared without my knowledge are _incomplete_ and _faulty_. CARL COURVOISIER. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. II. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ HOW TO STUDY THE VIOLIN By J. T. CARRODUS. CONTENTS. Strings and Tuning. The Bow and Bowing. Faults and their Correction. Scales and their Importance. Course of Study. Advice on Elementary Matters. Concerning Harmonics, Octaves, etc. Orchestral Playing. Some Experiences as a Soloist. With full page portraits of Carrodus, Molique, Paganini, Spohr, Sivori, De Beriot, Blagrove and Sainton, and a photo-reproduction of Dr. Spohr's testimonial to Carrodus. "An interesting series of articles 'How to Study the Violin,' which Carrodus contributed to THE STRAD, and completed only a week or two before his death, have now been collected in cheap book form. The technical hints to violin students, which are practical, plainly worded, and from such a pen most valuable."--_Daily News_. "But a few weeks before his sudden death the most distinguished of native violinists completed in THE STRAD a series of chats to students of the instrument associated with his name. These chats are now re-issued, with a sympathetic preface and instructive annotations. All who care to listen to what were virtually the last words of such a conscientious teacher will recognise the pains taken by Carrodus to render every detail as clear to the novice as to the advanced pupil. Pleasant gossip concerning provincial festivals at which Carrodus was for many years 'leader,' of the orchestra, ends a little volume worthy a place in musical libraries both for its practical value and as a memento of the life-work of an artist universally esteemed."--_Daily Chronicle_. "It is surely, hardly necessary to direct the attention of students to the unique value of the hints and advice given by so experienced and accomplished a virtuoso as the late Mr. Carrodus, so that it only remains to state that the 'Recollections' make delightful reading, and that the book, as a whole, is as entertaining as it is instructive. The value of the brochure is enhanced by an excellent portrait of Mr. Carrodus, as well as of a number of other violin worthies, and the printing, paper, and get up generally are good as could possibly be."--_Musical Answers_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. III. _Crown 8vo., Cloth 2/6, Post Free 2/9._ THE BOW Its History, Manufacture and Use BY HENRY SAINT-GEORGE. With Full Page Illustrations (exact size) by Photo Process. MONS. EMILE SAURET writes--"I have read it with great interest, and think that it supplies a real want in giving musicians such an excellent description of all matters referring to this important instrument." SIGNOR GUIDO PAPINI writes--"Thanks so much for your splendid and interesting book. You are quite successful and all the artists and amateurs are indebted to you for a so exact and correct '_Texte_' on the subject." ADOLF BRODSKY writes--"I am delighted with the book and find it very instructive, even for those who think to know everything about the bow. It is very original and at times very amusing. No violinist should miss the opportunity to buy it." THE TIMES.--"A useful treatise on the Bow, in which the history, manufacture and use of the bow are discussed with considerable technical knowledge." DAILY TELEGRAPH.--"To the student there is much of interest in the work, which has the advantage of being copiously illustrated." DAILY NEWS.--"This book seems practically to exhaust its subject." "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. IV. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 5/-, Post Free, 5/4._ CELEBRATED VIOLINISTS: PAST AND PRESENT, _Translated from the German of_ A. EHRLICH, _And Edited with Notes and Additions by_ ROBIN H. LEGGE. _WITH EIGHTY-NINE PORTRAITS_. PRESS NOTICES. "Those who love their fiddles better than their fellows, and who treasure up every detail that can be found and recorded about their favourite and cherished players, will not fail to provide themselves with a copy of this book."--_Musical Opinion_. "This book of 280 pages is a most interesting and valuable addition to the violinist's library. It contains 89 biographical sketches of well-known artists, ancient and modern, of all nations. This is not intended to be a perfect dictionary of violinists; the aim of the Editor of the present volume being merely to give a few more up-to-date details concerning some of the greatest of stringed instrument players, and we must concede that no name of the first importance has been omitted. Germany is represented by 21 names, Italy by 13, France by 10, England by 4, Bohemia by 8, Belgium by 7, and the fair sex by seven well-known ladies, such as Teresina Tua, Therése and Marie Milanollo, Lady Hallé, Marie Soldat, Gabrielle Wietrowetz, and Arma Senkrah. Altogether this is most agreeable reading to the numerous army of violinists, both professionals and amateurs, and after careful examination we can find nothing but praise for this translation into English of a book well known on the Continent."--_The Piano, Organ and Music Trades Journal_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. V. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ TECHNICS OF VIOLONCELLO PLAYING BY E. VAN DER STRAETEN. COPIOUSLY ILLUSTRATED. _Copy of Letter received by the Author from the great 'cellist, SIGNOR ALFRED PIATTI._ Cadenabbia, Lake of Como, March 9th, 1898. DEAR SIR,--I received the book you kindly sent me on "The Technics of Violoncello Playing," which I found excellent, particularly for beginners, which naturally was your scope. With many thanks for kindly remembering an old ex-violoncello player. Believe me, yours sincerely, ALFRED PIATTI. _Copy of Letter received by the Author from the eminent 'cellist, HERR DAVID POPPER._ Budapest, February 22nd, 1898. DEAR SIR,--In sending me your book on "The Technics of Violoncello Playing" you have given me a real and true pleasure. I know of no work, tutors and studies not excepted, which presents so much valuable material, so much that is absolutely to the point, avoiding--I might say, on principle--all that is superfluous and dispensable. Every earnest thinking violoncello student will in future make your book his own and thereby receive hints which will further and complete the instructions of his master. I congratulate you and ourselves most heartily on the new violoncello book. With kind regards, Yours most sincerely, DAVID POPPER. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. VI. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free 2/9._ VIOLIN PLAYING BY JOHN DUNN CONTENTS INTRODUCTORY--Qualities indispensable to the ideal Violinist--Hints on the Choice of a Teacher--Some Tricks of pretending professors exposed. ON THE CHOICE OF A VIOLIN AND BOW--Advice regarding general adjustment and repairs. ON THE CHOICE OF STRINGS--Stringing the Instrument and keeping the Pegs in Order. ON THE GENERAL POSTURE--The manner of holding the Violin and Bow as accepted by the leading artists of the day. ON FINGERING GENERALLY--The various positions--Scales recommended--The Modern Orchestral "Principal" or (so-called) Leader. ON GLIDING--Special Characteristics of some of the most Eminent Players. DOUBLE STOPPING--The main difficulty in Double Stopping--How to gain independence of Finger. BOWINGS--Smooth Bowings--Solid Staccato--Spiccato--Spring Bow--Mixed Bowings. TONE PRODUCTION--Character of Tone--Rules and Conditions necessary to produce a good tone--Style and Expression. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. VII. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ Chats to 'Cello Students BY ARTHUR BROADLEY "Musicians, devotees of the 'cello in particular, will welcome the latest volume of the 'Strad Library,' 'Chats to 'Cello Students,' by Arthur Broadley.... Mr. Broadley not only knows what he is talking about, but has practised what he says. From the choice of an instrument to finished delivery and orchestral playing, 'Chats to 'Cello Students' leaves nothing undiscussed. The treatment is simple and practical. The exhaustive chapter on 'bowing' should be an invaluable aid to students. In the last chapter of his book, 'On Delivery and Style,' Mr. Broadley has given a lucid expression to a subject which has sadly needed voicing."--_The Tribune, Nuneaton_. "Is a brightly written little volume filled with practical information for those who seek to bring out the wealth of expression of which the violoncello is capable. The instruction is presented in homely, common-sense fashion, and there are upwards of fifty examples in music type to illustrate the author's meaning."--_Lloyd's Weekly_. "Every kind of bowing and fingering, the portamento, harmonic effects, arpeggios and their evolution from various chords, are all ably treated, and the work concludes with a few remarks on orchestral playing which are of especial interest."--_Musical News_. "As a writer on the technique of his instrument Mr. Broadley is known all over the world, perhaps his most successful work being a little book published by THE STRAD, 'Chats to 'Cello Students.'"--_The Violinist_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. VIII. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ ANTONIO STRADIVARI BY HORACE PETHERICK _Of the Music Jury, International Inventions Exhibition, South Kensington, 1885; International Exhibition, Edinburgh, 1890; Expert in Law Courts, 1891; Vice-President of the Cremona Society_. ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR. "This is the history of the life-work of the great Italian stringed musical instrument maker.... There is a most interesting analysis of Stradivari's method of mechanical construction which again is illustrated by original drawings from the many Strads which it has been Mr. Petherick's privilege to examine. All lovers of the king of instruments will read this delightful little volume."--_Reynolds_. "Among makers of violins Stradivari perhaps occupies the premier position, and this account of his work, designs, and variations in finish of details will afford pleasure to many readers."--_Morning Post_. "This is a monograph which all students of the violin will be happy to possess. The author is a connoisseur and expert, and his account of the great Cremonese master and his life-work, is singularly well and clearly told, whilst the technical descriptions and diagrams cannot fail to interest everyone who has fallen under the spell of the violin.... Mr. Petherick traces the career of Stradivari from his earliest insight into the mysteries of the craft to his highest achievements. Numerous illustrations lend attraction to the volume, not the least being a view of Stradivari's atelier, from a painting by Rinaldi, the sketch of which was made on the premises."--_Music_. "Mr. Petherick is well known in the musical world as a violin expert with a special knowledge of the instruments made by the Cremonese master, whose biography he has here given us. He tells us how the master worked, what his pupils did, and where their work differs from that of their preceptor. In fact, the volume is as much a dissertation on the violins of Stradivari as a biography of the master, and is full of deeply interesting matter."--_Lloyds_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. IX. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 5/-, Post Free, 5/4._ VIOLIN MAKING BY WALTER H. MAYSON, With Thirty-one Full-page PHOTO ETCHINGS, Illustrating the process of Violin-making in every stage--from the rough slab of wood to the finished Instrument. The text is written by an Actual Violin Maker, in a very clear and lucid style. "'Popular lecture' style, with photographic illustrations."--_The Times_. "A feature of the book is the clearness of the illustrations."--_Morning Post_. "Describes a very fascinating art from start to finish."--_Morning Leader_. "This new booklet, on how to make a violin, is an admirable exposition of methods. Mr. Mayson avoids learned terminology. He uses the simplest English, and goes straight to the point. He begins by showing the young learner how to choose the best wood for the violin that is to be. Throughout a whole chatty, perfectly simple chapter, he discourses on the back. A separate chapter is devoted to the modelling of the back, and a third to its 'working out.' The art of sound-holes, ribs, neck, fingerboard, the scroll, the belly. Among the illustrations is one showing the tools which the author himself uses in the making of his instruments. To learners of the well-known Manchester maker's delicate art we commend this little volume."--_Daily News_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. X. _Crown 8vo., Cloth, 2/6, Post Free, 2/9._ (DEDICATED, BY PERMISSION, TO DR. JOSEPH JOACHIM) THE VIOLIN MUSIC OF BEETHOVEN, Critically discussed, and Illustrated with over FIFTY MUSICAL EXAMPLES, BY J. MATTHEWS. The book contains analytical and historical notes upon the Chamber Music of Beethoven, in which the violin takes part as a solo instrument, with some account of the various editions of the principal works; Beethoven's method of working, as shown by his Sketch Books, etc. It is dedicated to Dr. JOACHIM, who has furnished some notes respecting the stringed instruments possessed by Beethoven. Extract from Author's Preface:-- "Young students often suppose that they ought to admire every work which proceeds from a great genius; an attempt therefore has been made to convey some idea of the relative art-value and importance of the various compositions discussed in these pages. For between the best work of any man and his least inspired, there is a wide difference. Certainly nothing annoyed the great master more than to hear his least mature works praised, especially at a time when many of his greatest creations were too little studied to be understood save by a few." "Mr. John Matthews--dealing with Beethoven's music in pleasant fashion, and at not too great length--gives an historical account, and in many instances short analyses, with illustrations in music type, of Beethoven's works for this instrument, and particularly the sonatas (to which considerable space is devoted), the trios, the quartets, and other compositions in which the master employed the violin. The book will be found by amateurs both interesting and instructive."--_Daily News_. "THE STRAD" LIBRARY, No. XI. _Crown 8vo., cloth, 157 pages, 2s. 6d., Post Free, 2s. 9d._ Advice to Pupils & Teachers of the Violin, BY BASIL ALTHAUS. CONTAINS OVER 200 MUSIC ILLUSTRATIONS STRONGLY RECOMMENDED BY AUGUST WILHELMJ AND GUIDO PAPINI _London, March 18th, 1903_. DEAR MR. ALTHAUS, I read your book "Advice to Pupils and Teachers of the Violin" with great interest, and find it very useful. Hoping your book will meet with the success it deserves. I am, yours sincerely, AUGUST WILHELMJ. _London, Feb. 19th, 1903_. DEAR MR. ALTHAUS, I have read with interest your admirable book, "Advice to Pupils and Teachers of the Violin." I have no hesitation in recommending it as an indispensable work to all aspiring violinists and teachers. Your remarks on the acquirement of the various bowings, with the many musical examples, are excellent. I know of no work on this important subject so explicit and exhaustive. Wishing your book the great success it deserves. Believe me, yours sincerely, GUIDO PAPINI. "I have read the 157 pages that go to form the book in question, and can say, without any misgiving, that Mr. Althaus has successfully achieved what he set out to do."--_Musical Standard_. "The practical and lucid explanations given are assisted by numerous illustrations."--_Reynold's Newspaper_. 
21982	----	[_Frontispiece_: PAGANINI'S GIUSEPPE GUARNERI. Date 1743. (IN THE MUNICIPAL PALACE, GENOA.)] THE VIOLIN ITS FAMOUS MAKERS AND THEIR IMITATORS BY GEORGE HART WITH _NUMEROUS WOOD ENGRAVINGS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE WORKS OF STRADIVARI, GUARNERI, AMATI, AND OTHERS, AND ADDITIONS AND EMENDATIONS BY THE AUTHOR'S SON AND TOWRY PIPER_ "To perfect that wonder of travel--the locomotive--has perhaps not required the expenditure of more mental strength and application, than to perfect that wonder of music--the Violin." W. E. GLADSTONE. LONDON DULAU AND CO., LIMITED, 37, SOHO SQUARE, W. SCHOTT AND CO., 159, REGENT STREET. 1909 [_All rights reserved._] PREFACE TO THE ENLARGED AND REVISED EDITION The favourable reception accorded to the previous editions of this work has not only added greatly to the pleasure attending the preparation of a new and revised edition, but has encouraged me to spare no effort within my power to render the volume as interesting and complete as possible. In making these endeavours, the bulk of the book has been necessarily increased by additional information, spread over all the sections of the work, but chiefly on those which treat of the Early History of the leading instrument, and the Italian branches of the subject. It is in connection with the Italian divisions of the book that the reader will discover, I venture to hope, information which he will regard as interesting in its character, besides being of some historical value. The greater part of this new matter has been obtained from original MSS. belonging to the trustees of the Civic Museum at Cremona, which Institution is located in the palace bequeathed to the citizens, together with its contents, by the Marchese Ponzoni. In the year 1872, Dr. F. Robolotti, the learned historiographer of the town, and a distinguished physician, and the Marchese Senatore Araldi Erizzo, presented to the Institution referred to an important collection of rare books and documents illustrative of the history of the City of Cremona. Among these are two sets of MSS., numbered respectively 729 and 431, the contents of which shed much light on the Italian sections of our subject, and constitute the source of the principal portion of the additional information contained in the following pages. The first-named MS. is the work of Don Desiderio Arisi, a monk of the order of St. Jerome, who in the quiet of his cell in the Convent of St. Sigismondo set himself the task of writing brief notices of Cremonese worthies. The MS. is dated 1720, and includes a most interesting account of the patronage enjoyed by Antonio Stradivari, together with several items of information of more or less worth, relative to the famous Violin-maker. In passing, it may be mentioned that Don Desiderio Arisi was intimate with Stradivari, and gained his knowledge of the facts he recorded from the artist himself. The second-named MSS., from which extracts have been made, are dated 1823. These contain references to the principal makers of Cremona, combined with critical remarks on their works from the pen of Vincenzo Lancetti, a Cremonese poet and biographer. The information contained in these MSS. was chiefly received from Count Cozio di Salabue in the course of correspondence between him and Lancetti. Nearly the whole of the extracts to which the reader's attention has been directed were given to me as far back as the year 1875, when the original edition of this work was in the press. Finding it impossible to make adequate use of them, in consequence of the volume being partly printed, I decided to insert a few items at the end of the notice of Antonio Stradivari, and to hold over the remainder in order to distribute the information among the notices of the several makers in a future edition. I am indebted for the knowledge of the existence of the Arisi and Lancetti MSS., and for their contents, to my friend Signor Federico Sacchi,[1] who during his researches among the Robolotti collection had free access to all the original documents, and whose family has long lived near the house occupied by Stradivari. With these advantages, it is almost needless to remark that my friend possessed ample means of aiding me in my endeavours to learn much concerning the makers of his native city. Taking as he does a deep and enthusiastic interest in the past history of Cremonese art, he spared no effort to obtain for me all the information possible. To him I am also indebted for the contents of the correspondence relative to the purchase, by Count Cozio di Salabue, of the tools used by Antonio Stradivari, and for the same having been placed at my disposal by the Marquis dalla Valle. In making these acknowledgments, I desire to tender Signor Sacchi my warmest thanks for the interest he has taken in my undertaking.[2] [Footnote 1: Signor Sacchi is the author of-- 1. "Cenni sulla vita e le opere di Agostino Aglio pittor Cremonese." Cremona, 1868. 8vo. 2. "Notizie pittoriche Cremonesi." Cremona, 1872. 4to. 3. "I Tipografi Ebrei di Soncino." Cremona, 1877. 4to. 4. "Annali Tipografici della Cittae provincia di Cremona," and many other memoirs on Cremonese printers and painters.] [Footnote 2: Signor Sacchi died in 1902.--ED.] The Section containing the Anecdotes has been recruited by additional Miscellanea, including "Hudibras and the Champion Crowdero." In placing this piece of wit and humour before my readers, I have endeavoured to do so in a form as connected as possible, by the selection of passages likely to conduce to that end, without trespassing too much on space, and on the reader's patience. I am indebted to Mr. G. D. Bishopp for the table containing the amount of tension of Violin strings, and their downward pressure. The information therein contained will doubtless be acceptable to many of my readers. I owe to M. le Chevalier Kraus, of Florence, the pleasure of including among the engravings those of the instruments made by Antonio Stradivari for the Grand Duke of Florence, he having obtained for me the necessary photographs. In conclusion, I have to thank my young friend Mr. Allan Fea for the two illustrations forming the head and tail pieces to "Hudibras and the Champion Crowdero." 28, _Wardour Street, London_, 1884. PREFATORY NOTE BY THE EDITORS Pending the completion of a more costly revised version of the late Mr. Hart's work, the editors, in compliance with what seems to be a widespread public desire, have decided to reprint the volume, as issued in popular form and finally corrected by the author in 1887, but with additions and certain emendations desirable in order to bring it into accord with the present state of knowledge, and to enhance its value as a work of reference. To this end the names of a considerable number of makers, either unknown at the time, or not deemed of sufficient prominence for insertion in the edition of 1887, have been incorporated in the text, together with particulars of the distinctive features of their work; and the notices relating to others have, where needful, been modified or recast. In other respects the book remains substantially as the author left it. 28 _Wardour Street_ _November_, 1909. CONTENTS SECTION I.--THE EARLY HISTORY OF THE VIOLIN. PAGE 1.--General observations--Early History involved in obscurity and vague conjecture--Jubal, Orpheus, and Apollo--Views of Early Historians of Music, as to Asiatic and Scandinavian origin respectively--Ravanon, King of Ceylon, and the "Ravanastron"--Researches of Sanscrit Scholars--Suggested Arabian origin of the Ribeca, or Rebec, and the Rehab of the Moors--Early Egyptian instruments--Moorish musical influence in Spain--The Troubadours and Trouveres in Northern France, and the Gigeours of Germany . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1-11 2.--Early evidence of Bowed Instruments in the north of Europe--Presumed Scandinavian origin of the German Geige--The Hon. Roger North's "Memoirs of Music"--Martinus Gerbertus, his "De Cantu et Musica Sacra"--Paul Lacroix' "Arts of the Middle Ages"--Earliest known representations of Bowed Instruments, sixth to ninth century--The Manuscript of St. Blasius--The Cheli or Chelys--Saxon Fiddle in the Cottonian Manuscripts, and in Strutt's "Sports and Pastimes"--The early Saxons' love of Music--The Saxon Fithele in the time of the Norman Conquest--The Geige in France, and the Jongleurs, "dancers, jugglers, and buffoons"--Domestic Music in Germany and the Low Countries in the sixteenth century--The Viol and the Madrigal--Music in Italy--Adrian Willaert, "The Father of the Madrigal"--Northern Musicians attracted to Italian Courts--Development of the Madrigal in Italy--High standard of early Italian work, but under German teaching--The Viols of Brensius of Bologna--Silvestro Ganassi, his work on the Viol--Duiffoprugcar and Gasparo da Salo and the development of the Violin--The Fretted Finger-board--The Violono or Bass Viol--Five-stringed Viols--The three-stringed Fiddle, or Geige, attributed to Andrea Amati, altered by the Brothers Mantegazza to a four-stringed Violin--Advent of the four-stringed Violin ascribed to Gasparo da Salo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12-26 SECTION II.--THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE VIOLIN. The present form of the Violin the result of much research and experiment, but perfected by the great Cremonese makers--Hogarth's "Line of Beauty" exemplified in the Violin--The requisites necessary to the due appreciation of the grace and properties of the Violin, and its exquisite power of expression--Its acoustical properties--Varieties of woods used in its construction--Methods adopted, and choice of material, by the great Brescian and Cremonese makers--The "whole-back" and "slab-back"--The constituent parts of the Violin--System of placing the sound-bar--Properties and position of the sound-post, and of the bridge; the neck; the finger-board; purfling, &c., &c.--The sound-holes of different makers--Needed cautions as to repairing good instruments . . . . . . . . . . . 27-42 SECTION III.--ITALIAN AND OTHER STRINGS. Importance of the Strings in the economy of the Violin--Adrien Le Roy's instructions "How to know Strings"--Thomas Mace and "Venetian Catlins"--Character of the different manufactures of Strings--Superiority of the Italian--The raw material not supplied by the feline race--Rules to be observed in choosing Strings--Modern improvements in Stringing--The Strings of Lindley and Dragonetti--Covered Strings--Experiments on the strain and pressure of Strings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43-56 SECTION IV.--THE ITALIAN SCHOOL. A glance at the rise, culmination, and decadence of Art in Italy, and the Violin as connected therewith--The Italians far in advance of other nations in the manufacture--The five Schools of Italian makers--Roger North on the demand for Italian Violins--Brescia the cradle of the manufacture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57-69 SECTION V.--THE ITALIAN VARNISH. The formation of the Italian Varnish a secret lost to the world--Lustrous character of that of Cremona--Characteristics of the four classes of Italian Varnish--Conjecture as to the loss of the secret--Influence of the different Varnishes on the tone of the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70-76 SECTION VI.--ITALIAN MAKERS. Acevo--Albanesi--Albani--Aletzie--Alvani--AMATI, ANDREA; evidence as to date of birth; his Violins small; founded the School of Cremona; probably a pupil of Gasparo da Salo; his model high, and sound-hole inelegant; his varnish deep golden; his "Charles IX. Set" of twenty-four Violins, six Tenors and eight Basses--Amati, Niccolo--AMATI, the Brothers ANTONIO and GIROLAMO; probable date of birth; comparison of the respective work, material, and tone of the two brothers--AMATI, NICCOLO, son of Girolamo; date of birth and death; the greatest of his illustrious family; gradual change in style; the "Grand Amati," followed by his great pupil, Stradivari; its exquisite proportions and character; singular beauty of his material, and elegance of design; differences between Niccolo Amati and his several copyists, Italian, German, and English--AMATI, GIROLAMO; date of birth; his work ascribed to other makers; character of his instruments and his varnish; the last of the Amatis--Ambrosi, Pietro--Anselmo, Pietro--Antoniazzi, Gaetano--Antonio of Bologna--Antonio, Ciciliano--Assalone, Gasparo . . . . . . . . . 77-94 Bagatella, Antonio--Bagatella, Pietro--BALESTRIERI, TOMMASO; probably a pupil of Stradivari; his work rough, but vigorous, tone and varnish good; his instruments rising in value--Bassiano, Lute-maker, Rome--Bellosio, Anselmo--Bente, Matteo--BERGONZI, CARLO; pupil of Antonio Stradivari; his work closely resembling that of his great master, and of the highest class; increasing appreciation; comparison of his instruments with those of Stradivari and Giuseppe Guarneri; character of his varnish, &c.; Violoncellos and Double-Basses of this maker--Bergonzi, Michel Angelo--BERGONZI, NICCOLO; character of his work--Bergonzi, Zosimo--Bergonzi, Carlo--Bergonzi, Benedetto--Bertassi, Ambrogio--Bertolotti (see Salo)--Bimbi, B.--Borelli, Andrea--Brensio, Girolamo--Brescia, da, Battista--Broschi, Carlo--Busseto, Giovanni . . . . . . . . . . 95-104 Calcagni, Bernardo--Calvarola, Bartolommeo--Camilli, Camillo--CAPPA, GIOFFREDO; pupil of the Brothers Amati; character of his work, in Violins and Violoncellos--Casini, Antonio--Castro--Catenar, Enrico--Celioniati, Gian Francesco--Cerin, Marco Antonio--Ceruti, Giovanni Battista; a prolific workman--Ceruti, Giuseppe--Ceruti, Enrico, son of Giuseppe; his work much valued by Italian players; exhibited in London and Milan Exhibitions--Cristofori, Bartolommeo--Circapa, Tommaso--Cocco, Cristoforo--Contreras, Joseph--Cordano, Jacopo Filippo--Costa, Pietro Antonio dalla; skilful copier of Amati . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104-110 Dardelli, Pietro; a Franciscan Monk; his Viols and Lutes--Despine, A.--Dieffoprugcar, Magno (Magnus Tieffenbrucker)--Dominicelli, Ferrara--DUIFFOPRUGCAR, GASPAR; high character of his Viols . 110-112 Farinato, Paolo--Ficker, Johann Christian--Ficker, Johann Gottlieb--Fiorillo, Giovanni--Frei, Hans; Lute and Viol-maker 112-113 GABRIELLI, GIOVANNI BATTISTA; his Violoncellos and Violins of high character--Gaffino, Giuseppe--GAGLIANO, ALESSANDRO; pupil of Antonio Stradivari; character of his work--Gagliano, Gennaro--Gagliano, Niccolo--Gagliano, Ferdinando--Gagliano, Giuseppe--Gagliano, Giovanni, Antonio, and Raffaele--Galbusera, C. A.--Garani, Michel Angelo--Garani, Niccolo--Gaspara da Salo (see Salo)--Gatinari, Francesco--Geroni, Domenico Ostiano--Gibertini, Antonio--GOBETTI (_Gobit_) FRANCESCO; comparisons of his work with those of Montagnana, Santo Serafino, and Ruggeri--Gofriller, Matteo--Gofriller, Francesco--Gragnani, Antonio--GRANCINO, PAOLO; pupil of Niccolo Amati; a true artist; classed with Stradivari, Bergonzi, Amati, and Guarneri; his Violas and Violoncellos--Grancino, Giovanni--Grancino, Giovanni Battista--Grancino, Francesco--Grulli, Pietro--GUADAGNINI, LORENZO, and Giovanni Battista; high character of their work--Guadagnini, Gaetano--Guadagnini, Giuseppe--Guadagnini, Carlo--Guadagnini, Antonio--GUARNERI, ANDREA; the pioneer of his family; worked with Stradivari and Niccolo Amati--GUARNERI, GIUSEPPE, son of Andrea; his Violins, Violas, and Violoncellos--GUARNERI, PIETRO, brother of Andrea--GUARNERI, PIETRO, grandson of Andrea--GUARNERI, GIUSEPPE (del Gesu); his monogram and cypher; evidence of his birth; sketch of his life, and characteristics of his work; comparison with Stradivari and Gasparo da Salo; his "three epochs;" lustrous quality of his varnish; different characters of his wood; the tradition of his "Prison Fiddles"; a "Prison Joseph"--Guidanti, Giovanni--Guillami . . 113-147 Harton, Michael . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Kerlino, Joan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Lagetto, Luigi--Landolfi, Carlo Ferdinando; original and generally good quality of his work--Lanza, Antonio Maria--Lavazza, Santino--Lavazza, Antonio--Linarolli, Venturo--Loly, Jacopo . 147-148 MAGGINI, GIOVANNI PAOLO; pupil and follower of Gasparo da Salo; other makers' productions frequently attributed to him; comparison of his work with that of Da Salo--MALER (Lutinist); termed the "Stradivari of Lutes;" Thomas Mace on the art of judging Lutes and Viols--MANTEGAZZA, PIETRO GIOVANNI; eminent as a restorer--Maratti--Mariani, Antonio--Meiberi, Francesco--Mezadri, Alessandro--Mezadri, Francesco--MONTAGNANA, DOMENICO; pupil of Antonio Stradivari; splendid specimens of his art still extant; his cognomen, "The Mighty Venetian;" rising value of his instruments; comparison with Stradivari and Bergonzi; superior character of his varnish--Montaldi, Gregorio--Morella . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149-158 Nadotti, Giuseppe--Nella, Raffaele . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 Ortega . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 Pandolfi, Antonio--PANORMO, VINCENZO; follower of Antonio Stradivari; residence in London and in Ireland; his struggles with adversity; light and graceful character of his work--Pansani, Antonio--Pasta, Antonio--Pasta, Domenico--Picino--Platner, Michel--Pollusca, Antonio--PRESSENDA, GIOVANNI FRANCESCO; superior work and varnish studied in Cremona; contrast with contemporary workers; humble origin; his connection with Storioni, and with Polledro, the Violinist; his models, Stradivari and Amati . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158-163 Racceris--Rinaldi, Gioffredo--Rocca, J. A.--Rodiani--Rota, Giovanni--Rovetta--ROGERI, GIOVANNI BATTISTA ("Bononiensis," from or settled in Bologna); his instruments of large Amati pattern--ROGERI, PIETRO GIACOMO--RUGGERI, FRANCESCO ("Il Per"); early artistic genius; foremost position of his family in Cremona; pupil of Niccolo Amati and worthy of him; brilliancy of his varnish--RUGGERI, GIACINTO--RUGGERI, VINCENZO--RUGGERI, GIAMBATTISTA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163-167 SACCHINI--SALO GASPARO DA ("The Great Brescian,"); his real name Bertolotti; essentially a maker of Viols; primitive character of his instruments; evidence as to date of his work; Ganassi's work on the Art of Playing the Viol; six-stringed and four-stringed Viols; Martin Agricola and his "Musica Instrumentalis;" Quatuor of instruments, Decantus, Altus, Tenor, and Bassus; foundation by Da Salo of Italian Violin-making; gradual and tentative development of his system; high value of his labours as a pioneer; chief characteristics of his work; his nice discrimination in choice of material; Signor Dragonetti's four Double-Basses of this maker, and his presentation of one of them to the Monastery St. Mark's, Venice--Sanoni, Giovanni Battista--Santo, Giovanni--Sanzo--Sardi--Sellas, Matteo--SERAFINO, SANTO; exquisite finish of his work; variation of model; high character of varnish and work; his method of cutting; copied Amati and Stainer--Sneider, Josefo--Socchi, Vincenzo--Sorsana--Stregner, Magno--Storioni; follower of Guarneri del Gesu; his freak as to placing the sound-holes; creditable character of his work in several respects--STRADIVARI, ANTONIO; his renown beyond that of all others; researches as to records of his life; evidence as to date of birth, marriage, and death; Genealogical Table of his family; the inventory of his work remaining at his death; similarity of his early work to that of his master, Niccolo Amati; evidences as to later changes of style; his inheritance of his aged master's tools and models; his purchase of his house in Cremona; contemporary appreciation of his merits; his set of Violins, Altos, and Violoncellos for King James of England; valuable evidence of Desiderio Arisi, and of Vincenzo Lancetti; Count Cozio's purchase of Stradivari's models, tools, and drawings, and their present possession by the Marquis Dalla Valle; instruments made for the Duke of Natalona, the Duke of Savoy, and the Duke of Modena; the "Long Strad"; instruments for the Spanish Court; letter from the Marquis Ariberti; a "Chest of Viols;" a "Concerto;" Stradivari's "golden period," 1700; description of his instruments of this date; the "Betts Strad;" guiding principles as to differences of construction and quality of material; the "Dolphin Strad," its exquisite beauty; tranquil character of Stradivari's life; war in Cremona; Prince Eugene and Villeroy; visit of Philip V. of Spain to Italy, and entry into Cremona; set of instruments for Charles III. of Spain, and for Archduke Charles of Austria; letter from Lorenzo Giustiniani; set of Violins for Augustus, King of Poland; Veracini, the Solo-Violinist, and Stradivari; last epoch of the great maker; quality of his instruments at this period; comparison with those of contemporaries; place of his burial, in the Chapel of the Rosary, with diagram; Polledro's description of the personality of Stradivari; singular apathy of the Cremonese as to their great deceased citizen--STRADIVARI, FRANCESCO and OMOBONO, sons and successors of Antonio; character of their work; correspondence between his son and grandson, Paolo and Antonio, and the agents of Count Cozio di Salabue, relative to the purchase of the models, tools, and drawings of the Maestro--Sursano, Spirito . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168-219 Tanegia, Carlo Antonio--Taningard, Giorgio--TECCHLER, DAVID; his instruments of German and Italian styles, finely formed, and of good quality; his Violoncellos of large size--Testore, Carlo Giuseppe--Testore, Carlo Antonio--Testore, Paolo Antonio--Tieffenbrucker, Leonardo--Todini, Michele; his method of stringing the Violono--Tononi, Carlo--Tononi, Carlo Antonio--Tononi, Giovanni--Tononi, Felice--Tononi, Guido--Trapani, Raffaele . . 219-222 Valenzano, G.--Vetrini, Battista--Vimercati . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Wenger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Zannetto, Pellegrino--Zanola, Giovanni Battista--Zanotti, Antonio--Zanti, Alessandro--Zanure, Pietro--Zenatto, Pietro . 222-223 SECTION VII.--THE FRENCH SCHOOL. Origin of the French School in the 17th century; followers of the Brescian and Cremonese types; mediocre character of their earlier efforts, with a few exceptions--De Comble and the second French School; Pique, Lupot, and Francois Gand; Silvestre, of Lyons--Introduction of the practice of Fiddle-baking; its failure--The copyist, and the Mirecourt factory, the "Manchester of Fiddle-making;" its destructive influence on the interests of true art . . . . 224-230 SECTION VIII.--FRENCH MAKERS. Aldric--Allar--Amelot--Aubry--Augiere . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Bachelier--Bassot--Bernardel, Sebastien Philippe--Bertrand, Nicolas--Boivin, Claude--Boquay, Jacques; follower of Girolamo Amati--Borlon, Artus, or Arnould--Borlon (or Porlon), Pierre, Viol-maker--Borlon, Joannes--Borlon, Francois--Boullangier, C.--Boumeester--Bourdet, Sebastien--Bourdet, Jacques--Boussu, Eterbeck--Breton, Le--Brugere . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231-234 CALOT--Castagnery, Andrea--Castagnery, Jean Paul--Champion, Rene--Chanot, Francois--CHANOT, GEORGES; an indefatigable worker, and close copier of Stradivari and Guarneri--Chanot, Georges, fils--Chanot, F.--Chanot, G. A.--Chappuy, Nicolas-Augustin--Chardon, Joseph--Charotte--Chevrier, Andre-Augustin--Claudot, Charles--Claudot, Augustin--Clement--Cliquot, Henri--Cliquot, Louis Alexandre--Cunault--Cuypers--Cuny . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234-237 Daniel--Darche--David--DE COMBLE, AMBROISE; said to have worked with Stradivari; a skilful worker; good material and varnish--Dehommais--Delanoix--Delaunay--Deleplanque, Gerard--Derazey--Despons, Antoine--Dieulafait--Droulot--Ducheron, Mathurin--Du Mesnil, Jacques . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237-238 Eesbroek, Jean Van, Lute-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238-239 Falaise--Fendt, or Fent--Fleury, Benoist--Fourrier, Nicolas . . . 239 GAILLARD--GAND, FRANCOIS; pupil and successor of Nicolas Lupot; an excellent maker and repairer--Gand, Adolphe--Gand, Eugene--Gavinies, Francois--Germain, Joseph Louis--Germain, Emile--Gosselin--Grand-Gerard--Grandson Fils--Grosset, Paul Francois--Guersan, Louis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239-242 Hel--Henry, Jean Baptiste Felix--Henry, Charles--Henry, Octave--Henry, Eugene--Hofmans, Mathias . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Jacobs, Hendrik; his work often mistaken for that of Niccolo Amati--Jacobs--Jacquot, Charles (_pere_)--Jacquot, Charles (_fils_)--Jeandel, P. N. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242-243 Koliker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 Lambert, Jean Nicolas--Lapaix--Laprevotte, Etienne--Leclerc--Lecomte--Leduc, Pierre--Lefebvre--Le Jeune, Francois--Le Pileur, Pierre--Lesclop, Francois Henry--Louis--Louvet, Jean--Lupot, Jean--Lupot, Laurent--Lupot, Francois--LUPOT, NICOLAS; maker to the Conservatoire; an excellent workman, and named "The French Stradivari," and "The king of modern makers;" characteristics of his work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243-247 Marquis de Lair--Mast, Jean Laurent--Mast--Maucotel, Charles--Maucotel, Charles Adolphe--Medard, Francois--Medard, Nicolas--Medard, Jean--Mennegand, Charles; distinguished as a maker and repairer, and also as a "cutter"--Miremont, Claude Augustin--Modessier--Mougenot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247-250 Namy--Nezot--Nicolas, Francois--Nicolas, Fourrier--Nicolas, Didier--Nicolas, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Ouvrard, Jean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Pacherele, Michel--Pacherel--Paul, Saint--PIERRAY, CLAUDE; an excellent workman, following Amati--Piete, N.--PIQUE, F. L.; close copyist of Stradivari; excellent work and material--Pirot, Claude--Pons, Cesar--Pons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250-252 Rambaux, Claude Victor--Raut, Jean--Remy--Remy, Jean Mathurin--Remy, Jules--Remy--Renaudin, Leopold--Renault, Nicolas--Rombouts, Peeter--Roze . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252-253 Sacquin--Salle--Salomon, Jean Baptiste--Saunier--Schnoeck, Egidius--SILVESTRE, PIERRE; a true artist; follower of Stradivari--Silvestre, Hippolyte--Silvestre, Hippolyte Chretien--Simon--Simonin, Charles--Socquet . . . . . . . . . . 253-254 Theress, Charles--Thibout, Jacques Pierre; an excellent workman, and well-known dealer; his relations with Luigi Tarisio--Thomassin--Tywersus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 Vaillant, Francois--Veron, Pierre--Vibrecht, Gysbert--Vuillaume, Jean--VUILLAUME, J. B.; a prolific and skilful maker; associated with Tarisio, and purchaser of his collection--Vuillaume, N. F.--Vuillaume, Claude Francois--Vuillaume, Sebastien . . . . . . . . . . . . 254-255 SECTION IX.--THE GERMAN SCHOOL. No trace of Violin manufacture in Germany previous to the middle of the seventeenth century--Pervading influence of Jacob Stainer in the constitution of the German School--Popularity of his model--Mediocre character of the school, with some notable exceptions . . . . 256-258 SECTION X.--GERMAN MAKERS. Albani, Mathias (_pere_)--ALBANI, MATHIAS (_fils_); his style Italian, and workmanship excellent--Albani--Alletzie, Paolo--Artmann . 259-260 Bachmann, Carl Ludwig; maker to the Court of Frederick the Great; founder of Concerts for Amateurs at Berlin--Bachmann, O.--Bausch, Ludwig C. A.--Bausch, Ludwig B.--Bausch, Otto B.--Beckmann--Bedler--Bindernagel; made in both German and Italian styles--Buchstadter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260-261 Christa, Joseph Paul . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 Diel (or Diehl), Martin--Diel, Nicolaus--Diel, Johann--Diel, Jacob--Diehl, Nicolaus Louis--Diehl, Friedrich--Diehl, Johann--Diehl, Heinrich--Dopfer, Nicolaus--Durfel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261-262 Eberle, J. Ulric; good copyist; form Italian; made also Viols d'Amour--Edlinger, T.--Edlinger, Joseph Joachim--Elsler, Joseph; made Viols da Gamba--Ernst, Franz Anton; pupil of Antonio Lolli; Court Musician at Gotha . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262-263 Felden, M.--Fichtold, Hans--Fichtl, Martin--Ficker, Johann Christian--Ficker, Johann Gotlieb--Fischer, Zacharie--Frey, Hans; maker of Lutes; related to Albert Durer--Fritzche . . . . . . 263-264 Gedler, Johann A.--Gedler, Johann B.--Geissenhof, Franz; Stradivari model--Gerle, Johann, Lute-maker--Griesser, Matthias--Grimm, Carl--Grobitz, A.--Gugemmos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Haensel, Johann A.; his "Ueber den Bau der Violin"--Hamberger, Joseph--Hamm--Hammig, Johann Gottfried--Hassert--Hassert--Helmer, Carl--Hildebrandt--Hiltz, Paul--Hoffmann, Martin--Hoffmann, Johann Christian--Hornstainer, Joseph--Hornstainer, Matthias--Horil, Jacob--Huller, August--Humel, Christian--Hunger, Christoph Friedrich . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264-265 Jais, Johann--Jauch, Johann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Karb--Kambl, Johann A.--Kembter--Kiaposse, Sawes--Kirchschlag--Kloz, Matthias; pupil of Stainer--KLOZ, SEBASTIAN; superior model, form flat--Kloz, George--Kloz, Egidius--Kloz, Joseph--Kloz, J. Karl--Knittle, Joseph--Knitting--Kohl, Johann--Kolditz, J.--Kolditz, Mathias Johann--Kramer, H.--Kriner, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . 265-267 Laska, Joseph--Lembock . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Mann, Hans--MAUSSIELL, LEONARD; Stainer model; excellent workmanship; style of Tecchler--Maher (Maier)--Meusidler--Mohr, Philip--Moldonner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Niggel, Simpertus; good workmanship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Ohberg, Johann--Ott, Johann--Otto, Jacob August; maker to the Court of Weimar; author of "Ueber den Bau und die Ehrhaltung der Geige und aller Bogeninstrumente"--Otto, Georg August--Otto, Christian--Otto, Heinrich--Otto, Carl--Otto, C. U. F.--Otto, Ludwig--Otto, Louis--Otto, Hermann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267-268 Parth, Andreas Nicholas--Pfretzschner, Gottlob--Pfretzschner, Carl Friedrich--Plack, F.--Possen, L. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268-269 Rauch--Rauch, Jacob; Court Violin-maker--Rauch, Sebastian--Rauch--Reichel, Johann Gottfried--Reichel, Johann Conrad--Reichers, August--Riess--Roth, Christian--Ruppert . . . . 269 Sainprae, Jacques; Baryton Viol-maker--Sawicki--Scheinlein, Mathias--Scheinlein, Johann Michael--Schell, Sebastian--Schlick--Schmidt--Schonfelder, Johann A.--Schonger, Franz--Schonger, Georg--Schorn, Johann; excellent work; high model--Schorn, Johann Paul; Court instrument-maker--Schott, Martin--Schweitzer--Stadelmann, Daniel; good work; Stainer model--Stadelmann, Johann Joseph--STAINER, JACOB; the greatest of German makers, and a thorough artist; his model original; sketch of his history and work; great popularity of his style; his "Elector Stainers;" Herr S. Ruf's personal history of Stainer's life, and the romance founded thereon; Counsellor Von Sardagna's contributions to his history; Rabenalt's drama, "Jacob Stainer," and other poems thereon: "Der Geigenmacher Jacob Stainer von Absam;" said to have been a pupil of Niccolo Amati; his marriage; his appointment as Court Violin-maker; accused of heresy, and imprisoned; pecuniary difficulties, and sad end; his good name frequently clouded by inferior work falsely attributed to him--Stainer, Markus--Stainer, Andreas--Staugtinger, Mathias W.--Steininger, Jacob; related to Dopfer and Nicholas Diel--Steininger, Franz--Stoss--Stoss, Martin--Straube--Strauss, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269-281 TIEFFENBRUCKER--TIELKE, JOACHIM (i.); Lute and Guitar-maker; rich and chaste ornamentation of his work; description of examples extant in England--TIELKE, JOACHIM (ii.); fine examples of a later maker of this name at South Kensington and elsewhere . . . . . . . . . . . . 281-282 VOEL, E.; excellent work; Stradivari model--Vogel, Wolfgang--Vogler, Johann Georg--Voigt, Martin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282-283 Wagner, Joseph--Weickert--Weigert--Weiss, Jacob--Wenger, G. F.--Widhalm, Leopold; follower of Stainer; careful finish and good varnish--Wyemann, Cornelius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Zwerger, Antoni . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 SECTION XI.--THE ENGLISH SCHOOL. Non-recognition of English makers by Continental writers on the Violin--Causes of the partial decadence of the art in this country as on the Continent--Earliest English makers, and their several models--School of English copyists . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284-292 SECTION XII.--ENGLISH MAKERS. Absam, Thomas--Adams--Addison, William--Aireton, Edmund; an excellent copyist of Amati--Aldred--Askey, Samuel . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293 Baines--Baker--Ballantine--BANKS, BENJAMIN; the foremost English maker, and termed "The English Amati;" high character of his work and varnish--Banks, Benjamin (2)--Banks, James and Henry--Barnes, Robert--Barrett, John; follower of Stainer; good quality of work--Barton, George--Betts, John; pupil of Richard Duke--BETTS, EDWARD; pupil of Duke, and an excellent copyist; high finish; Amati model--Bolles--Booth, William--Booth--Boucher--Brown, James--Brown, James (2)--Browne, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293-299 Cahusac--Carter, John--Challoner, Thomas--Cole, Thomas--Cole, James--Collier, Samuel--Collier, Thomas--Collingwood, Joseph--Conway, William--Corsby, George--Cramond, Charles--Crask, George--Cross, Nathaniel--Crowther, John--Cuthbert; good quality of work . . 299-300 Davidson, Hay--Davis, Richard--Davis, William--Dearlove, Mark--Delany, John; his peculiar label--Dennis, Jesse--Devereux, John--Dickinson, Edward--Dickeson, John; excellent copyist of Amati--Ditton--DODD, THOMAS; not a maker, but an employer of makers of highest class, and especially famous for the high character of his varnish--Dodd, Thomas (2)--Dorant, William--DUKE, RICHARD; his name a "household word" with English Violinists; high character of his real work, but frequently and badly counterfeited; his models both Amatese and Stainer--Duke, Richard (2)--Duncan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300-305 Eglington--Evans, Richard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305 FENDT, BERNARD; a born Fiddle-maker; a fellow workman with John F. Lott; his instruments copies of Amati, bearing the labels of Thomas Dodd or John Betts, and highly valued--FENDT, BERNARD SIMON; good work, but sometimes artificially "matured;" his Violins, Tenors, Violoncellos, and Double-Basses; follower of the Guarneri and Gasparo da Salo models; his quartett of instruments in the London Exhibition of 1851--Fendt, Martin--Fendt, Jacob; his work finely finished; skilful copies of Stradivari, but artificially and cleverly "aged"--Fendt, Francis--Fendt, William--Ferguson, Donald--Firth--Forster, W.--Forster, William (i.); spinning-wheel and Violin-maker--FORSTER, WILLIAM (ii.); also a maker of spinning-wheels and Violins, and amateur Fiddler; an excellent copyist of Stainer and of the Amati models; high character of his work and varnish; his Double-Basses for the Band of George the Third; his instruments highly valued by Robert Lindley--FORSTER, WILLIAM (iii.); excellent work--Forster, William (iv.)--Forster, Simon Andrew--Frankland--Furber, John--Furber, Henry John . . . . . 305-313 Gibbs, James--GILKES, SAMUEL; a thorough artist, and pupil of William Forster--Gilkes, William--Gough, Walter . . . . . . . . . . . 313-314 Harbour--Hardie, Matthew; Scotland's best maker--Hardie, Thomas--Hare, John--Hare, Joseph--HARRIS, CHARLES; genuine character of work, of Amati and Stradivari type; exquisite finish and good varnish--Harris, Charles (2)--HART, JOHN THOMAS; pupil of Samuel Gilkes; specially known as connoisseur, collector, and dealer--Heesom, Edward--Hill, Joseph--Hill, William--Hill, Joseph--Hill, Lockey--Hill, William Ebsworth--Holloway, J.--Hume, Richard . . . . . . . . . . . . 314-318 Jay, Henry; Viol-maker--Jay, Thomas--Jay, Henry; maker of Kits--Johnson, John; music-seller and dealer; referred to by Dibdin in his Autobiography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 318-320 Kennedy, Alexander--Kennedy, John--Kennedy, Thomas . . . . . . . . 320 Lentz, Johann Nicolaus--Lewis, Edward--Longman and Broderip; music-sellers and publishers--LOTT, JOHN FREDERICK; a finished workman, employed by Thomas Dodd; splendid character of his work; the "King of English Double-Bass makers"--Lott, George Frederick--Lott, John Frederick; his chequered career, and Charles Reade's novel thereon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 320-322 Macintosh--Marshall, John--Martin--Mayson, W.--Meares, Richard--Mier--Morrison, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 322-323 Naylor, Isaac--Norborn, John--NORMAN, BARAK; probably a pupil of Urquhart; follower of Maggini; excellent quality of his Violoncellos and Tenors; his partnership with Nathaniel Cross--Norris, John 323-325 Pamphilon, Edward--Panormo, Vincent--Panormo, Joseph; excellent character of work--Panormo, George Lewis--Panormo, Louis--Parker, Daniel--Pearce, James--Pemberton, Edward--Perry and Wilkinson--Powell--Preston, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 325-327 Rawlins, Henry--Rayman, Jacob; founder of Violin-making in England--Richards, Edwin--Rook, Joseph--Rosse (or Ross), John--Ross, John (2); good character of work and varnish . . . . . . . . . 327-328 Shaw--Simpson--Smith, Henry--Smith, Thomas--Smith, William . . . . 328 Tarr, W.--Taylor--Thompson--Thorowgood, Henry--Tilley, Thomas--Tobin, Richard--Tobin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328-329 Urquhart; excellent character of his work . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Valentine, William . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Wamsley, Peter; superior character of his work--Wise, Christopher--Withers, Edward--Withers, Edward (2) . . . . . . 329-330 Young, father and son, and Purcell's Catch . . . . . . . . . . . . 330 SECTION XIII.--THE VIOLIN AND ITS VOTARIES. Sterne on Hobby-horses--Tender relationships between the Violin and its Votaries--Wendell Holmes on the Violin--Thomas Mace on early prices of instruments--Early makers, continental and English--Advent of the Stainer model, and its temporary preference over those of the Italian masters; its depressing influence on prices of Amatis and Stradivaris--Guarneri del Gesu brought to the front by Paganini, and Maggini by De Beriot--Recognition of the merits of Bergonzi, Guadagnini, and Montagnana--Luigi Tarisio, and his pilgrimages in search of hidden treasures; his progress as amateur, connoisseur, devotee; his singular enthusiasm, and Charles Reade's anecdote thereon; the Spanish Bass in the Bay of Biscay; Tarisio's visit to England, and the Goding collection; his hermit life; purchase of his collection by M. Vuillaume--Principal buyers of Italian instruments at this period, continental and English--Charles Reade as a connoisseur--Count Cozio di Salabue, an ardent votary of the Cremonese Violin; his purchase of Stradivari's instruments, patterns, tools, &c.; his correspondence with Paolo Stradivari relating thereto--William Corbett, and his "Gallery of Cremonys and Stainers"--The collections of Andrew Fountaine and James Goding--The Gillott Collection; its curious origin, its unique character and interesting circumstances attending its sale . . . . . . . . . 331-374 SECTION XIV.--SKETCH OF THE PROGRESS OF THE VIOLIN. Date of the first appearance of the instrument--The Violin of Leonardo da Vinci--Paolo Veronese's picture, "The Marriage at Cana" (with engraving)--Baltazarini, the earliest known player--The "Concert Orchestra" and the Duke of Ferrara--First use of stringed instruments in the Opera; the "Orfeo" of Claudio Monteverde--Introduction of the Sonata; Dr. Burney thereon--Corelli, and the "Balletti da Camera"--Dibdin on Corelli's Concertos--Jean Baptiste Lulli, and the Legend of the Stewpans; his influence on early French Violin music--Progress of the Violin in England; Dr. Rogers and John Jenkins--Samuel Pepys on the emoluments of the Royal Band--John Bannister and the earliest English public concerts--Henry Purcell; his Sonatas, and his royal patron, Charles II.--Thomas Britton, the "musical small-coal man," and his concerts in Clerkenwell--John Henry and Thomas Eccles, and itinerant musicians--Francesco Geminiani; his Sonatas and musical works--Progress of the instrument in Italy; Tartini and his compositions; Locatelli, Lolli, and Giardini; Boccherini and his Quintets; Viotti, his School of Violin-playing, and his concerts; Campagnoli, and his "Studies on the Seven Positions of the Violin," and other works; Paganini, and his imitators; Sivori, Ole Bull, Leclair, Gavines, and other leaders in the art--Violin-playing in France and Belgium; M. Rode, M. Alard, M. Sainton, De Beriot and Vieuxtemps--Polish Violinists of note--Lord Chesterfield's instructions to his son relative to Fiddling--Michael Festing and Thomas Britton; origin of "The Philharmonic Society," and of the "Royal Society of Musicians"--Handel legacy to the Royal Society--Early musical proclivities of the Earl of Mornington--Salomon and the Philharmonic; negociations with Haydn--Influence of Salomon on the development of musical taste in England--The Cramers--Nicholas Mori and others--Dando--Henry Blagrove, and his "Concerti da Camera"--Mr. Chappell and his "Monday Popular Concerts"--Henry C. Cooper, and the "Quartett Association"--M. Sainton, Hill, Piatti; John Carrodus, Herr Molique, and the Brothers Holmes--Progress of the Violin in Germany: Graun and Benda; John Sebastian Bach as Violinist and composer; Herr Joachim--Handel, influence of his compositions on the progress of the Violin--Haydn, and his Symphonies and Quartetts; A lady's ideal thereof--Mozart, and his "Method" for the Violin; his early attachment to the instrument--Schubert, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Fesca, and their influence--Louis Spohr and his works--Bernard Molique--Joseph Mayseder--Kalliwoda--Herr Ernst, Joachim and Strauss, with Herr Wilhelmj, and their concerts . . . . . . . . . . . . 375-409 SECTION XV.--ANECDOTES AND MISCELLANEA CONNECTED WITH THE VIOLIN. Hudibras and the Champion Crowdero--George Herbert's references to Music--Christopher Simpson's Trinity in Unity--Shakespeare's Sonnet VIII.--Violins from a medical point of view--"A Musician"--Origin of Tartini's "Sonato del Diavolo"--Dr. Johnson and the Violin--Dr. Johnson on the Difficulty of Playing the Violin--Dr. Johnson's Epitaph on Phillips, the Welsh Violinist--Dr. Johnson's Knowledge of Music--Dr. Johnson on Fiddling and Freewill--Haydn in London: a "Sweet Stradivari;" Letters of the Rev. Thomas Twining--Gainsborough as a musician--Garrick and Cervetto--The King and the Player--Sir Walter Scott on Music and Fiddles; the Duke of Hamilton's passion for the Violin--A Cinderella Violoncello--A Stolen "Strad"--The Missing Scroll--Another Wandering Scroll--A Montagnana Instrument shot through the body--Fiddle Marks and the Credulous Dabblers--"Guarneri" at a Discount--Dragonetti's Gasparo: Letter thereon by Mr. Samuel Appleby--The Betts Stradivari: Letter by the late Charles Reade--Leigh Hunt on Paganini--Thackeray on Orchestral Music--Spohr and his Guarneri--Spohr and the Collector--The Ettrick Shepherd and the Violin--The Fiddle Trade: "Old Borax" and "Michael Schnapps," the Fiddle-ogre--The Prince and the "Fugal Vortex"--Sale of Cremonese Instruments at Milan in 1790--An Indefatigable Violinist--A Wish--Living Stradivaris--Pleasures of Imagination--A Royal Amateur--Pius IX. and the Musician--Ole Bull and Fiddle Varnish--Letter from Tartini on the Treatment of the Violin . 410-507 INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 509 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS FRONTISPIECE--Paganini's "Giuseppe Guarneri." 1743. PLATE FACING PAGE I. Stradivari Viola. 1672 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 II. Jacobus Stainer. 1669 Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu Niccolo Amati. Grand Pattern. 1641 . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 III. Violoncello by Antonio Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 IV. Antonio Stradivari. 1734 The Gillott "Strad." 1715 Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu. 1734 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 V. Carlo Bergonzi Violoncello. Grand Pattern . . . . . . . . . 84 VI. J. B. Guadagnini Storioni. 1797 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102 VII. Specimens of Scrolls . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120 VIII. Giuseppe Guarneri. 1742 Antonio Stradivari. 1711 Antonio Stradivari. 1703 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136 IX. Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu. 1737 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154 X. Domenico Montagnana Violoncello . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170 XI. Antonio Stradivari. Tenor. 1690 Antonio Stradivari. 1734 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186 XII. Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu. 1738 The "Dolphin" Strad. 1714 Antonio Stradivari. 1718 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200 XIII. Antonio Stradivari. 1702 Antonio Stradivari. 1722 Antonio Stradivari. 1703 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232 XIV. Stradivari Violoncello . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 XV. Chapel of the Rosary, Cremona . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 XVI. Antonio Stradivari. 1708 Antonio Stradivari. 1736 Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu. 1735 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282 XVII. The "Betts" Stradivari. 1704 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 298 XVIII. Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu Antonio Stradivari (Inlaid). 1687 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 316 XIX. Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu. 1733 Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu. 1741 Antonio Stradivari. 1726 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 332 XX. Gasparo da Salo Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu. 1735 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 348 XXI. Antonio Stradivari. 1690 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 380 "Marriage at Cana," by Paolo Veronese . . . . . . . . . . . 376 Tartini's Dream . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 428 THE VIOLIN ITS FAMOUS MAKERS AND THEIR IMITATORS SECTION I The Early History of the Violin 1. The early history of the Violin is involved in obscurity, and in consequence, much diversity of opinion exists with regard to it. The chief object of the writer of these pages is to throw light upon the instrument in its perfected state. It is, therefore, unnecessary to enter at great length upon the vexed question of its origin. The increased research attendant upon the development of musical history generally could hardly fail to discover facts of more or less importance relative to the origin of instruments played with a bow; but although our knowledge in this direction is both deeper and wider, the light shed upon the subject has not served to dissipate the darkness attending it. Certain parts have been illumined, and conclusions of more or less worth have been drawn therefrom; for the rest, all remains more hopelessly obscured and doubtful than the identity of the "Man in the Iron Mask" or the writer of the "Letters of Junius." It is satisfactory to know that the most valuable and interesting part of our subject is comparatively free from that doubt and tradition which necessarily attaches to the portion belonging to the Dark or Middle Ages. When we reflect that Music--as we understand it--is a modern art, and that all instruments of the Viol and Fiddle type, as far as the end of the fifteenth century, were rude if not barbarous, it can scarcely excite surprise that our interest should with difficulty be awakened in subtle questions pertaining to the archaeology of bowed instruments. The views taken of the early history of the leading instrument have not been more multiform than remote. The Violin has been made to figure in history sacred and profane, and in lore classic and barbaric. That an instrument which is at once the most perfect and the most difficult, and withal the most beautiful and the most strangely interesting, should have been thus glorified, hardly admits of wonder. Enthusiasm is a noble passion, when tempered with reason. It cannot be said, however, that the necessity of this qualification has been invariably recognised by enthusiastic inquirers into the history of instruments played with a bow. We have a curious instance of its non-recognition in a treatise on the Viol,[1] written by a distinguished old French Violist named Jean Rousseau. The author, bent upon going to the root of his subject, begins with the Creation, and speaks of Adam as a Violist. Perhaps Rousseau based his belief in the existence of Fiddling at this early period of the world's history on the words "and his brother's name was Jubal; from him descended the Flute players and Fiddlers," as rendered by Luther. [Footnote 1: "Traite de la Viole," Paris, 1687.] The parts Orpheus and Apollo have been made to play in infantile Fiddle history have necessarily been dependent upon the licence and the imagination of the sculptor and the medallist. Inferences of antiquity, however, have been drawn from such representations. Tracings of a bow among the sculpture of the ancients have been sought for in vain: no piece is known upon which a bow is distinguishable. A century since, an important discovery was thought to have been made by musical antiquarians in the Grand Duke's Tribuna at Florence, wherein was a small figure of Apollo playing on a kind of Violin with something of the nature of a bow. Inquiry, however, made it clear that the figure belonged to modern art. Orpheus has been represented holding a Violin in one hand and a bow in the other; inquiry again showed that the Violin and the bow were added by the restorer of the statue. The views held by musical historians regarding the origin of the Violin may be described by the terms Asiatic and Scandinavian. The Eastern view, it need scarcely be said, is the most prolonged, exceeding some five thousand years along the vista of time, where little else is discoverable but what is visionary, mythical, and unsubstantial. It is related--traditionally of course--that some three thousand years before our era there lived a King of Ceylon named Ravanon,[2] who invented a four-stringed instrument played with a bow, and which was named after the inventor "the Ravanastron." If it were possible to identify the instrument of that name, now known to the Hindoos, as identical with that of King Ravanon--as M. Sonnerat declares it to be--the Eastern view of our subject would be singularly clear and defined. A declaration, however, resting on tradition, necessarily makes the gathering of evidence in support of it a task both dubious and difficult.[3] [Footnote 2: M. Sonnerat, "Voyage aux Indes Orientales," 1806.] [Footnote 3: In Mr. Engel's "Researches into the Early History of the Violin Family," 1883--a book containing much valuable evidence on the subject--the author rightly remarks: "Now, this may be true; still it is likewise true that most of the Asiatic nations are gifted with a remarkably powerful imagination, which evidently induces them sometimes to assign a fabulously high age to any antiquity of theirs the origin of which dates back to a period where history merges in myth. At the present day the Hindoos possess, among their numerous rude instruments of the Fiddle class, an extraordinarily primitive contrivance, which they believe to be the instrument invented by Ravanon. Their opinion has actually been adopted by some of our modern musical historians as if it were a well established truth."] It is said that Sanscrit scholars have met with names for the bow in Sanscrit writings dating back nearly two thousand years. If this information could be supplemented by reliable monumental evidence of the existence of a bow of some rude kind among the nations of the East about the commencement of the Christian era, its value would necessarily be complete. In the absence of such evidence we are left in doubt as to what was intended to be understood by the reported references to a bow in ancient Sanscrit literature. The difficulty of understanding what Greek and Roman authors meant, in reference to the same subject, must be greatly intensified in the works of ancient Eastern writers.[4] [Footnote 4: In the "Reflections" at the end of Vol. I., "Burney's History of Music," we read, "The ancients had instead of a bow, the Plectrum." "It appears too clumsy to produce from the strings tones that had either the sweetness or brilliancy of such as are drawn from them by means of the bow or quill. But, notwithstanding it is represented so massive, I should rather suppose it to have been a quill, or piece of ivory in imitation of one, than a stick or blunt piece of wood or ivory."] The inquiry is simplified from the point of view of a Violinist if we reject all bow-progenitors but those which have been strung with fibre, silk, hair, or other material, the properties of which would permit of the production of sustained sounds. Implements less developed belong to a separate order of sound-producing contrivances, namely plectra, and may be described as permitting strumming by striking in place of twanging or twitching the strings. The imperfect knowledge we have of instruments of the Fiddle kind in Europe, belonging to a period many centuries later than that we are now considering, points to their having been struck or strummed, and not bowed with a view to the sounds being sustained. The oldest known representation of a contrivance or instrument upon which a string is stretched with a peg to adjust its tension, is probably that described by Dr. Burney as having been seen by him at Rome on an Egyptian obelisk. In a notice of Claudius Ptolemeus, an Egyptian, who wrote upon harmonic sounds about the middle of the second century, we have an illustration of an instrument of a similar character to that found on the obelisk above noticed.[5] In all probability neither of these contrivances was intended to be used as a musical instrument further than for scientific purposes, as a means of testing the tension of strings and the division of the scale: in short, they were monochords and dichords. [Footnote 5: Sir John Hawkins' History.] In following the Eastern branch of our subject, it is necessary to refer to the suggested Arabian origin of the Ribeca of the Italians and the Rebec of the French--a little bowed instrument, shaped like the half of a pear, and having therefore something of the character of the mandoline. We have early mention of this particular view of Violin history among the valuable and interesting manuscript notes of Sir John Hawkins.[6] The author states that the Rebab was taken to Spain by the Moors, "from whence it passed to Italy, and obtained the appellation of Ribeca." He also refers to a work entitled "Shaw's Travels," in which mention is made of the Rebeb or Rebab as an instrument common in the East in the eighteenth century. It is, however, upon turning to the dissertation on the invention and improvement of stringed instruments by John Gunn, published in 1793, that we first find a lucid account of Eastern influence in connection with bowed instruments.[7] The author refers to the monochord as the invention of the Arabians: he then says, "The early acquaintance which it is probable the Egyptians had of the science and practice of music, was the source whence the Arabians might derive their knowledge. There is a remarkable correspondence between the dichord of the Egyptians and an instrument of the like number of strings of the Arabians. This instrument was played with a bow, and was probably introduced into Europe by the Arabians of Spain, and well known from the Middle Ages down to the last century by the name of the Rebec; it had probably, on its first introduction, only two strings, as it still has among the Moors, and soon after had the number increased to three. Dr. Shaw, who had seen it, calls it a Violin with three strings, which is played on with a bow, and called by the Moors Rebebb." In passing it may be said that the translators of the Bible, historians, painters, and poets have in many instances contributed greatly to the confusion attending the history of bowed instruments from their inability to correctly name and depict corded instruments. About a century after the publication of Dr. Shaw's "Travels in the East," appeared Lane's "Modern Egypt," wherein reference is made to an instrument named Rebab. It is described as being made partly of parchment, and mounted with one or two strings, played on with a bow. These instruments appear to be identical. We do not usually look to the East for progressiveness, and would therefore not expect to discover much difference between a Rebab of the nineteenth century and one of the eighth century. In taking this view we may therefore assume that the existing Rebab has nearly all in common with its Eastern namesake of the eighth century. The rude and gross character of the instrument is remarkable, and renders any connection between it and the Rebec of Europe in the Middle Ages somewhat difficult to realise. Having no certain knowledge of the form of the ancient Rebab, our views regarding its connection with the Rebec must necessarily be speculative, and mainly dependent upon the etymological thread which is drawn between the words Rebec and Rebab. It is worthy of notice in relation to the opinion held by Sir John Hawkins and many other musical historians as to a bowed instrument of the Fiddle kind having been introduced into Spain from the East in the eighth century, that we possess no certain evidence of bowed instrument cultivation in Spain between the eighth and twelfth centuries, whilst we have proof of the use of bowed instruments both in Germany and in England within that period.[8] The evidence we have of the use of a description of Viol at that time, from the carvings on the Portico della Gloria of the Church of Santiago da Compostella, does not carry conviction that a bow was used, since none is represented.[9] [Footnote 6: Hawkins' "History of Music" was published in the year 1776. The MS. notes, which are attached to the author's copy in the British Museum, were included in the edition published in 1853 by Novello & Co.] [Footnote 7: It may be remarked that nineteen years prior to the publication of John Gunn's dissertation was published the valuable work of Martinus Gerbertus, "De Cantu et Musica Sacra," dated 1774. The volumes of Gerbertus were evidently perused with care and attention by Gunn. The references of John Gunn to the work are the earliest I have met with.] [Footnote 8: Mention is made by Ash-Shakandi, who wrote on Moorish music in Spain in the thirteenth century, of the Rebab. If this instrument was not more developed than its modern namesake, we have evidence of the Saxons being in possession of bowed instruments infinitely superior at a much earlier date.] [Footnote 9: In "The Violin and its Music," 1881, page 50, I have assumed their use by the performers on the above mentioned arch, believing it not improbable that the use of the bow was introduced by the settlers in Spain from the North.] That the Spanish were influenced by their Moorish conquerors with regard to music, minstrelsy, and dancing is certain. The origin of such movements as the Saraband, the Morisca (or Morris dance), and the Chaconne,[10] has been traced to the East. That such dances should have been accompanied by instruments of Eastern origin of the Lute kind may be assumed. Both in Spain and southern France accompanying instruments struck with plectra or twanged with the fingers were adopted at a very early period, and the people of those parts attained to a high state of proficiency--so much so indeed as to have rendered the cultivation of this description of music a national characteristic with them in the use of such instruments. The usage of the bow, however, does not appear to have been cultivated sufficiently, if at all, to leave its traces in history, until about the twelfth century, when the Troubadours sought the aid of the Trouveres and Jongleurs. The Trouveres were minstrel poets belonging to Northern France. The Jongleurs entertained their patrons with jests and arch sayings, and were often joined by the Gigeours of Germany, to accompany their lays with their Geigen and kindred instruments. [Footnote 10: It need scarcely be said that the Eastern and Spanish ancestor of Bach's Chaconne was terpsichorean, and was unconnected with any kind of scientific musical treatment.] The foregoing remarks point to the absence of reliable evidence of the existence of a bow--worthy of the name from the point of view of a Violinist--among the Asiatic nations in the early centuries of our era. The Ravanastron of India, the Rebab of Arabia, and other stringed instruments used by the Persians and the Chinese, hardly admit of being looked upon as links in the genealogical Fiddle chain. Whatever the shape and use of ancient Eastern instruments--having something in common with the European Violin--may have been, the slight apparent affinity is accidental, and no real relationship exists between the European and the Asiatic Fiddle.[11] [Footnote 11: Mr. Engel, "Researches into the Early History of the Violin Family," page 104, remarks: "It is rarely that the name of an Asiatic musical instrument can be traced to a European origin. There are, however, one or two instances in which this seems to be possible. Thus, the Chinese name Ye-Yia, by which they occasionally designate their Fiddle, may possibly be a corruption of _giga_ or _geige_, considering that the common name of the Chinese Fiddle is Unheen, and that Macao, where this instrument is said to be called Ye-Yin, has been above three hundred years in the possession of the Portuguese, and in constant communication with European nations." This seems to deprive the argument of the Eastern origin of the Fiddle of weight, and favours the already strong evidence of Scandinavian origin centred in the word Geige.] 2. The survey of the early history of bowed instruments in the North of Europe necessarily discovers a broader field of ostensible data than is possible to be found in the Asiatic view of the subject. Tradition, accompanied by its attendant uncertainties, gives place to facts recorded in illuminated manuscripts of the Middle Ages, on sculptured stone, on engraved brasses, in the lay of the minstrel, in the song of the poet, and, finally, in the works of the painter and of the musician. The information obtainable from these several sources is often of the slightest kind, and admits of little else than a rude historical outline being drawn. The varied character of the evidence, however, serves in some instances to counterbalance the lack of detail. Enquiry into the history of any science seldom fails to make us acquainted with men whose views and opinions were formulated prior to the production of well-digested evidence in favour of their premises--a condition of things resulting oftentimes in their judgments being post-dated, and their names in consequence severed from them; in short-- "Elder times have worn the same, Though new ones get the name." In relation to our subject, the Hon. Roger North, Attorney-General to King James the Second, occupies a position of the kind described. In his work entitled "Memoirs of Music," written in the early part of the eighteenth century, we have the ingenious author's views as to the source from whence sprung the progenitor of the long line of Fiddle and Viol. His treatment of the subject displays a truly commendable amount of skill and judgment, and more so when we consider the limited sources of information at his disposal in comparison with those at the service of subsequent musical authors. He says, "There is no hint where the Viol kind came first in use." "But as to the invention which is so perfectly novel as not to have been heard of before Augustulus, the last of the Roman Emperors, I cannot but esteem it perfectly Gothic." "I suppose that at first it was like its native country, rude and gross, and at the early importation it was of the lesser kind which they called Viola da Bracchia, and since the Violin." He concludes by expressing his belief that the Hebrews did not sound their "lutes and guitars with the scratch of an horse-tail bow." These opinions of Roger North are for the most part identical with those held by well-known promoters of the Northern view of our subject.[12] [Footnote 12: Paul Lacroix remarks, in "The Arts of the Middle Ages": "Stringed instruments that were played on by means of bows were not known before the fifth century, and belonged to the Northern races." Sir Gore Ouseley, in his English edition of Naumann's "History of Music," commenting upon the author's statement that "the Rebab was introduced by Arabs into Southern Europe, and may be the precursor of all our modern stringed instruments," says, "From this view I am compelled to dissent," and speaks in favour of the Northern origin. William Chappell, "Popular Music of the Olden Times," remarks: "I will not follow M. Fetis in his newly adopted Eastern theory of the bow. The only evidence he adduces is its present use in the East, and the primitive form of Eastern instruments." "I would ask how comes it that the bow was unknown to the Greeks and the Romans? Did not Alexander the Great conquer India and Persia? And were not those countries better known to the ancients than to the modern until within the last three hundred years? The Spaniards derived their instruments from the Moors, but the bow was not among them."] About fifty years later than the date of North's "Memoirs of Music" appeared the famous work of Martinus Gerbertus, entitled, "De Cantu et Musica Sacra." Among the valuable manuscripts referred to by the author is one which supplies the earliest known representation of a bow instrument of the Fiddle kind, and which may be accepted as a description of German Fiddle. The date of this particular manuscript has been ascribed by M. Fetis to the ninth century. It may possibly have belonged to an earlier period.[13] [Footnote 13: As the manuscript was destroyed by the fire which burnt nearly the whole of the buildings, Abbey, Church, and Library of St. Blasius in the Black Forest in 1768, the language of Gerbertus, who examined the original manuscript, is worthy of some attention. After referring to certain plates, copied from a manuscript of the year 600, he says that "the other twenty-three representations on the following eighth plate" (in which is included the early German Fiddle) "are from a manuscript a _little more recent_." Whether the period of three centuries named by M. Fetis can be considered recent is at least questionable. The information taken from this manuscript is of paramount importance, with reference to the Asiatic and Northern views of the origin of the Violin. The view taken by some authorities, that the Europeans received their earliest instructions in infantile Fiddling from the Moors, when they conquered Spain in the eighth century, is already overclouded by the representation of a Fiddle and bow on this German Manuscript, even assuming it to be of the ninth century; but if its date be given prior to the appearance of the Moors in Europe, the Eastern view of the subject is naturally further darkened.] The instrument was described in the manuscript of St. Blasius as a Lyre. Gerbertus rightly observes that it has only one string, and is more like a Cheli.[14] He quotes writers of different epochs relative to the meaning of the word Lyre as used by them, the tendency of his remarks apparently being to establish a connection between the German Fiddle named a Lyre in the manuscript and the Rebec. The representation we have of the instrument certainly conveys the idea of its having been a progenitor of the Rebec of the French, the Ribeca of the Italians, and the Fithele and the Geige of the Germans. The mention of an instrument of the kind in a German manuscript, discovered in an ancient German monastery, together with the record being dated by Gerbertus as not far removed from the sixth century, lends much weight to the opinion of Roger North with regard to the part played by the Teutonic race in the early history of bowed instruments. [Footnote 14: The ancient name of corded instruments of the Lute, Mandoline, and Guitar kinds. Tradition has it that the Nile, having overflowed Egypt, left on shore a dead _Cheli_ (tortoise), the flesh of which being dried in the sun, nothing was left within the shell but nerves and cartilages, and these being braced and contracted were rendered sonorous. Mercury, in walking, struck his foot against the shell of the tortoise, and was delighted with the sound produced, which gave him the idea of a Lyre that he later constructed in the form of a tortoise, and strung with the dried sinews of dead animals. This account of the origin of Lutes, Fiddles, and catgut is classic and picturesque. Tradition and myth have played parts of much consequence in the work of civilisation: they have, however, at length fallen upon a critical and remarkably sceptical age, and rapidly fade and die under the inquisitorial torture of modern inquiry--a result at least to be expected from the contact of their own dreamy and delicate nature with unromantic matter. It is perhaps safer to refer the origin of the name Cheli or tortoise, as applied to corded instruments, to the fact of their having sound chambers, constructed with tortoise-shell, as was the case with the Greek Lyre, or to the circumstance of the bodies of the instruments being shaped like the tortoise. The Germans used the word Chelys to designate their Viols; and Christopher Simpson, in his famous treatise on the "Viol da Gamba," names it Chelys. The application of the word Chelys to bowed instruments is suggestive of their remote connection with the ancient Lyre.] [Illustration: _Plate I_. ANTONIO STRADIVARI VIOLA. 1672.] It is now necessary to refer to the well-known representation of a Saxon Fiddle contained in the Cottonian manuscripts in the British Museum. Strutt, in his "Sports and Pastimes," supplies us with a copy of the illustration, which is that of a juggler throwing balls and knives to the accompaniment of an instrument of the Fiddle kind. Strutt ascribes the manuscript to the tenth century. The form of this Fiddle is in advance of that supplied in the St. Blasius manuscript, there being four strings, but there is no bridge indicated, and, had there been, it would not have evidenced a Saxon knowledge of tuning the strings to given intervals, and playing upon each string. The little light which has been thrown on the condition of instrumental music at the time renders it doubtful whether any bowed instrument was used, other than for the purpose of rendering a rude extemporaneous accompaniment to the voice or the dance. The chief authorities upon ancient minstrelsy agree that the Saxon's love of music was cultivated for centuries with ardour by his Saxon ancestors; it would therefore be reasonable to believe that his knowledge of rude Fiddles was derived from the land of his forefathers, and not from any instrument he discovered in Britain.[15] The similarity of the instrument of the St. Blasius manuscript and of that in the hands of the Saxon Gleeman in the Cottonian manuscript is evidence of Teutonic origin. It is, moreover, strengthened by the fact of the use of the word Fithele by the Anglo-Saxons for nearly two centuries after the Norman Conquest, which name was adopted with but little variation by the whole of the Teutonic race.[16] In Germany the word was used as late as the twelfth century. About this period the word Geige appears to have been applied in Germany to designate a Fiddle. It is described as an improved Rebec, and strung with three strings.[17] The use of the word Geige in Germany instead of Fithele in the twelfth century, is worthy of attention as bearing upon Teutonic origin. The earliest information we have of the use of the Geige in France is in connection with the Jongleurs. The Geige was popular in France until the fifteenth century, when, as M. Lacroix says, it disappeared, leaving its name "as the designation of a joyous dance, which for a considerable period was enlivened by the sound of the instrument." The word Geige, I am inclined to think, is important as furnishing evidence of historical value in relation to the ancestry of the Violin. Lacroix believes that Germany created the Geige; other authorities are of opinion that it originated among the people of Provence. The former view is supported by the strongest evidence. Some inquirers derive the word Geige from the French and Italian words for leg of mutton.[18] Wigand, however, supposes it to be derived from the old northern word _Geiga_, meaning trembling, or from _Gigel_, to quiver. If we consider the nature and character of the instrument, this view of the derivation of the word appears both ingenious and correct. Roger North shrewdly conjectured that the "rude and gross" Gothic Fiddle "used to stir up the vulgar to dancing, or perhaps to solemnise their idolatrous sacrifices." In the Dark Ages dancing may have been regarded as bi-pedal trembling. I have remarked in another place,[19] "In the early ages of mankind dancing or jigging must have been done to the sound of the voice, next to that of the pipe, and, when the bow was discovered, to that of a stringed instrument which was named the Geige from its primary association with dancing." The evidence we have of the use to which the leading instrument was put in the days of its adolescence is indicative of its having grown up among dancers, jugglers, and buffoons. In Germany its players gave fame and name to a distinct class of itinerant minstrels named the Gigeours, who were often associated with the Jongleurs in their perambulations. In France, from the days of the Jongleurs to those of Henry IV., and later to those of Louis XIV., the instrument was wedded to the dance. In England to the time of Charles II. it was in the hands of the Fiddler, who accompanied the jig, the hornpipe, the round, and the North Country frisk. [Footnote 15: In Carl Engel's "Researches into the Early History of the Violin Family," 1883, the author disbelieves in the Crwth having been the lineal ancestor of the Violin, and there can be but little doubt of the correctness of his opinion.] [Footnote 16: It is worthy of remark that the Northmen, who invaded and gave their name to Normandy, carried from their Scandinavian homes a love of minstrelsy.] [Footnote 17: Sebastian Wirdung, a priest, published a work in 1511, in which he describes the bow instruments of his time by the names Gross-Geigen and Klein-Geigen. The illustration of the Klein-Geige differs but little from the Rebec; it has three strings, whilst the Gross-Geige has nine. Further information is supplied by the work of Martin Agricola, published in 1529.--_Mendel's German Musical Dictionary, article "Violine."_] [Footnote 18: "Almost all our musical writers state, as if it were a well-ascertained fact, that the German word Geige is derived from the _Gigue_ of the French Minstrels, who, during the 13th and 14th centuries, had a sort of _Rebec_ which they called by that name, and which, according to some commentators, resembled in outward appearance the shank of a goat or ram, called _Gigot_, and hence the origin of all the similar words occurring in different European languages. These commentators have, however, neglected to prove that the old French word Gigue occurs before the 13th century, or that it is earlier than the Middle High German _Gige_."--_Engel's "Researches into the History of the Violin Family."_] [Footnote 19: "The Violin and its Music," 1881, page 19.] In pursuing the course of our subject, our inquiries have hitherto been mainly concerned with the leading instrument in a barbarous and semi-barbarous state. We now reach what may be termed the transition stage of the question. The information relative to the appearance of the Geige, or Violin tuned in fifths, is of the slenderest kind. To obtain evidence of much worth it is necessary to reflect upon the condition of instrumental music about the sixteenth century, together with the form and character of bowed instruments belonging to the same period. The manners and customs of peoples have also to be considered. We have hitherto found the Geige or Fiddle among minstrels and itinerant musicians in countries where music and minstrelsy had become an institution with the people. The instrument was rude and gross, and its office was to play extemporaneous accompaniments, with considerable licence. At length domestic music began to be zealously cultivated in Germany and the Low Countries, to which important circumstance the rapid development of stringed instruments is traceable. Viols of various kinds supported the voices, and an important manufacture of such instruments took root in Nuremberg and other German cities. In following the history of the Madrigal much light is thrown upon that of the Viol, to which it is necessary to give attention in order to follow in some degree the development of the Violin. The condition of music in Italy previous to the time when the father of the Madrigal, Adrian Willaert, followed in the steps of his countrymen and made Italy his home, presents a great contrast to the state of the art in Germany and the Netherlands about the same period. The love of music in these countries had been growing among the people from the days of their minstrel poets and their wandering musicians. In Italy minstrelsy received but little attention or encouragement. The effect of this was probably felt when that extraordinary love of culture and admiration for art manifested itself amid the courts of her princes, about the middle of the fifteenth century. The love of melody then, as now, was deeply rooted in the nature of her people. Musical composition, however, of a high order, and able executants, were to be found elsewhere, and in Flanders in particular, and there the principal music and musicians were sought by the Italian _dilettanti_. To this fortuitous combination of melody and musical learning we owe the greatest achievements in the art of music. Upon it was raised the work of Palestrina, Scarlatti, and Corelli, which their distinguished followers utilised with such judgment and effect. The progress and development of the Madrigal in Italy may be said to have been co-equal with that of the Viol, for which its music served, and to which the Italians gave the same beauty of form and exquisite refinement. The ingenuity and skilfulness of the early German Viol makers was not less speedily recognised by the Italians than was the learning and power manifested by the Flemish motet writers. The work of the Italians with regard to both the Madrigal and the Viol was artistic in the highest degree, and such as could alone have been accomplished by men nourished on the teachings of the Renaissance, and surrounded by its chief glories. There is evidence of German influence over the Italian Viol manufacture at the end of the fifteenth century, in the German-sounding names of makers located in Italy, and likewise in the character and construction of the oldest Italian Viols: notably, there is the crescent-shaped sound-hole common to the German Grosse-Geige and Klein-Geige. The most ancient Viols in existence are those by Hieronymus Brensius of Bologna, two of which are in the Museum of the Academy of Music at Bologna, and a third is in my possession. They have labels printed in Roman letters, and doubtless belong to the end of the fifteenth century. These instruments serve to illustrate the condition of the art of Viol-making in Italy at that period. They are rude in form and workmanship, and present a marked contrast to the high artistic work associated with the Italians in other branches of industry. This rudeness is indicative of this particular manufacture being of recent importation, and of its having been received from Germany, and partly perhaps from the Low Countries, where instrumental music was cultivated chiefly by the people, in which case utility would naturally have priority of design and workmanship. With the introduction of Viols, in connection with the Madrigal, into the palaces of Italy, together with their increased use in connection with the service of the Church, a demand speedily arose for instruments of elegant design and finished workmanship, in keeping with the high standard raised by Italian artists in every direction. The work on the Viol by Silvestro Ganassi, published at Venice in 1543, furnishes us with ample proof of the advance made by the Italians in Viol-making since Brensius worked. We see from a representation of a Viol in the above-mentioned work that the sound-holes are better formed, the scroll is artistically designed, and the whole harmonious. These steps towards perfection were mounted by Duiffoprugcar and Gasparo da Salo, both of whom rapidly developed the art. With Gasparo da Salo, or a contemporary, was witnessed the rejection of the crescent-formed sound-hole, and the adoption of that which has held its own for upwards of three centuries. The sound-holes of the Amati and of Stradivari are but those of Gasparo and his contemporaries, marked with their own individuality. All Viols until about 1520 were furnished with pieces of gut tied round the neck and fingerboard to mark the divisions of the scale--in short, were fretted. From the work of Ganassi we learn that the use of these divisions was optional, thus supplying us with authentic information of considerable value with regard to the gradual emancipation of this class of instrument from frets, and foreshadowing the union of the Geige or Fiddle with the Viol. Passing to the question of form given by the Italians, early in the sixteenth century, to Viols, we find the Violono or Bass Viol with its upper and lower sides, middle bouts, belly, and sound-holes almost identical with those of the Tenor Viols, the chief difference being in the back of the latter, which is modelled, whilst the former is flat. This was the form given to the Violono by Gasparo da Salo, and which has been changed in the upper portion of the body of the instrument, to permit of modern passages being executed with greater facility. The original finger-board was short, and generally fretted. The number of strings was five or more, and not as we now string them with three or four. It will be seen that this form of instrument gives us what Mr. Charles Reade describes as the invention of Italy, namely "the four corners."[20] The same author in speaking of the order of invention remarks that he is puzzled "to time the Violono, or as we childishly call it (after its known descendant) the Double Bass. If I were so presumptuous as to trust to my eye alone, I should say it was the first of them all." With this opinion I entirely agree, and I am also in unison with Mr. Reade in believing that the large Viola (played on or between the knees) was the next creation, the design of which was that of the Violono or Double Bass already referred to. The next and most important step was in all probability to make the common Geige or three-stringed Fiddle of the same shape as these Tenor and Contralto Viols, thus handing to us the present-shaped Violin. In the MS. notes of Lancetti, reference is made to a three-stringed Violin in the collection of Count Cozio di Salabue, which throws some light upon the question as to three-stringed Violins, of the form of the Italian Viola, having been made prior to the introduction of those with four strings tuned in fifths. The instrument to which Lancetti refers was dated 1546, and was attributed to Andrea Amati. Until the beginning of the present century, this instrument remained in its original condition, when it was altered by the Brothers Mantegazza of Milan into a Violin with four strings. Mention of this curious and valuable fact furnishes us with the sole record of a three-stringed Violin having been in existence during the nineteenth century, and also supplies the link needful to connect the old type of Fiddle with the perfect instrument of the great Italian makers. When or where the four-stringed Violin tuned in fifths first appeared in Italy is a question the answer to which must ever remain buried in the past. It may have seen the light in Mantua, Bologna, or Brescia. The last-mentioned town is usually associated with its advent, and to Gasparo da Salo is given the credit of its authorship. [Footnote 20: "Cremona Violins," _Pall Mall Gazette_, 1872. This reference applies to the corners and corner-blocks as made by Gasparo and all makers to the present time, in contradistinction to those seen in the Viol da Gamba and early German Viols.] SECTION II The Construction of the Violin The construction of the present form of the Violin has occupied the attention of many scientific men. It cannot be denied that the subject possesses a charm sufficiently powerful to induce research, as endeavour is made to discover the causes for the vast superiority of the Violin of the seventeenth century over the many other forms of bow instruments which it has survived. The characteristic differences of the Violin have been obtained at the cost of many experiments in changing the outline and placing the sound-holes in various incongruous positions. These, and the many similar freaks of inventors in their search after perfection, have signally failed, a result to be expected when it is considered that the changes mentioned were unmeaning, and had nothing but novelty to recommend them. But what is far more extraordinary is the failure of the copyist, who, vainly supposing that he has truthfully followed the dimensions and general features of the Old Masters, at last discovers that he is quite unable to construct an instrument in any way deserving of comparison with the works of the period referred to. The Violin has thus hitherto baffled all attempts to force it into the "march of progress" which most things are destined to follow. It seems to scorn complication in its structure, and successfully holds its own in its simplicity. There is in the Violin, as perfected by the great Cremonese masters, a simplicity combined with elegance of design, which readily courts the attention of thoughtful minds, and gives to it an air of mystery that cannot be explained to those outside the Fiddle world. Few objects possess so charming a display of curved lines as the members of the Violin family. Here we have Hogarth's famous line of beauty worked to perfection in the upper bouts,[1] in the lower bouts, in the outer line of the scroll, in the sound-hole. Everywhere the perfection of the graceful curve is to be seen. It has been asserted by Hogarth's enemies that he borrowed the famous line from an Italian writer named Lomazzo, who introduced it in a treatise on the Fine Arts. We will be more charitable, and say that he obtained it from the contemplation of the beauties of a Cremonese Violin. [Footnote 1: A technical term for the sides.] In looking at a Violin we are struck with admiration at a sight of consummate order and grace; but it is the grace of nature rather than of mechanical art. The flow of curved lines which the eye detects upon its varied surface, one leading to another, and all duly proportioned to the whole figure, may remind us of the winding of a gentle stream, or the twine of tendrils in the trellised vine. Often is the question asked, What can there be in a simple Violin to attract so much notice? What is it that causes men to treat this instrument as no other, to view it as an art picture, to dilate upon its form, colour, and date? To the uninitiated such devotion appears to be a species of monomania, and attributable to a desire of singularity. It needs but little to show the inaccuracy of such hypotheses. In the first place, the true study of the Violin is a taste which needs as much cultivation as a taste for poetry or any other art, a due appreciation of which is impossible without such cultivation. Secondly, it needs, equally with these arts, in order to produce proficiency, that spark commonly known as _genius_, without which, cultivation, strictly speaking, is impossible, there being nothing to cultivate. We find that the most ardent admiration for the Violin regarded as a work of art, has ever been found to emanate from those who possessed tastes for kindred arts. Painters, musicians, and men of refined minds have generally been foremost among the admirers of the Violin. Much interest attaches to it from the fact of its being the sole instrument incapable of improvement, whether in form or in any other material feature. The only difference between the Violin of the sixteenth century and that of the nineteenth lies in the arrangement of the sound-bar (which is now longer, in order to bear the increased pressure caused by the diapason being higher than in former times), and the comparatively longer neck, so ordered to obtain increased length of string. These variations can scarcely be regarded as inventions, but simply as arrangements. The object of them was the need of adapting the instrument to modern requirements, so that it might be used in concert with others that have been improved, and allow the diapason to be raised. Lastly, it must be said that, above all, the Violin awakens the interest of its admirers by the tones which it can be made to utter in the hands of a skilful performer. It is, without doubt, marvellous that such sounds should be derivable from so small and simple-looking an instrument. Its expressiveness, power, and the extraordinary combinations which its stringing admits of, truly constitute it the king of musical instruments. These somewhat desultory remarks may suffice to trace the origin of the value set upon the Violin both as a work of art and as a musical instrument. We will now proceed to consider the acoustical properties of the Violin. These are, in every particular, surprisingly great, and are the results of many tests, the chief of which has been the adoption of several varieties of wood in its construction. In Brescia, which was in all probability the cradle of Violin manufacture, the selection of the material of the sides and back from the pear, lemon, and ash trees was very general, and there is every reason to believe that Brescia was the first place where such woods were used. It is possible that the makers who chose them for the sides and backs of their instruments considered it desirable to have material more akin to that adopted for the bellies, which was the finest description of pine, and that the result was found to be a tone of great mellowness. If they used these woods with this intention, their calculations were undoubtedly correct. They appear to have worked these woods with but few exceptions for their Tenors, Violoncellos, and Double Basses, while they adopted the harder woods for their Violins, all which facts tend to show that these rare old makers did not consider soft wood eligible for the back and sides of the leading instrument; and later experiment has shown them to have arrived at a correct conclusion on this point. The experiments necessary to obtain these results have been effected by cutting woods of several kinds and qualities into various sizes, so as to give the sounds of the diatonic scale. By comparing the intensity and quality of tone produced by each sample of wood, plane-tree[2] and sycamore have been found to surpass the rest. The Cremonese makers seem to have adhered chiefly to the use of maple, varying the manner of cutting it. First, they made the back in one piece, technically known as a "whole back"; secondly, the back in two parts; thirdly, the cutting known as the "slab back." There being considerable doubt as to the mode of dividing the timber, the woodcuts given will assist the reader to understand it. Fig. 1 represents the cutting for the back in two pieces--the piece which is separated from the log is divided. Fig. 2 shows the method adopted to obtain the slab form. [Illustration: FIG. 1.] [Illustration: FIG. 2.] [Footnote 2: The Germans call the plane-tree _morgenlandischer ahorn_--_i.e._, "oriental maple." From the German word _ahorn_ is probably derived the term "air wood," often corrupted into "hair-wood." Thomas Mace says, respecting the lute, "the air-wood is absolutely the best, and next to that our English maple."--_Engel_ ("Researches into the Early History of the Violin Family").] [Illustration: _Plate II_. JACOBUS STAINER. Date 1669. GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESU. (THE "VIEUXTEMPS.") NICCOLO AMATI. _Grand Pattern_. Date 1641. (J. S. COOKE, ESQ.)] This mode of cutting is constantly met with in the works of the Brescian makers, and likewise in those of the early Cremonese. Andrea Amati invariably adopted this form. Stradivari rarely cut his wood slab-form. Joseph Guarneri made a few Violins of his best epoch with this cutting, the varnish on which is of an exquisite orange colour, so transparent that the curls of the wood beneath resemble richly illuminated clouds. There can be no doubt whatever that the Cremonese and Brescian makers were exceedingly choice in the selection of their material, and their discrimination in this particular does not appear to have risen so much from a regard to the beauty as to the acoustic properties of the wood, to which they very properly gave the first place in their consideration. We have evidence of much weight upon this interesting question in the frequent piecings found on the works of Cremona makers, pointing to a seeming preference on their part to retain a piece of wood of known acoustic properties rather than to work in a larger or better preserved portion at the probable expense of tone. The time and care required for such a delicate operation must have been sufficient to have enabled the maker, had he been so minded, to have made a complete instrument. There is also ample proof that Joseph Guarneri possessed wood to the exceptional qualities of which he was fully alive, and the same may be said of Stradivari, Ruggeri, and others. It is scarcely reasonable to suppose that in the seventeenth century there was a dearth in Italy of timber suitable for the manufacture of Violins, and that in consequence these eminent makers were compelled to patch and join their material to suit their purpose. They were men who were in the enjoyment of a patronage certainly sufficient to enable them to follow their calling without privation of any kind. Scarcity of pine and sycamore, good or bad, could not have been the cause, since we find Italian cabinet-work of great beauty that was manufactured at this same period. The plane-tree and pine used by the Amati, Stradivari, and the chief masters in Italy, was usually of foreign growth, and was taken from the Tyrol and Istria. Its value was, therefore, in advance of Italian wood, but hardly so much as to place it beyond the reach of the Cremonese masters. It is, further, improbable that these masters of the art should have expended such marvellous care and toil over their work, pieced as it frequently was like mosaic, when for a trifling sum they could have avoided such a task to their ingenuity by purchasing fresh wood. We are therefore forced to admit that there must have been some cause of great weight which induced them to apply so much time and labour, and that the problem can only be accounted for by the solution before proposed, viz., that external appearance was of less importance than the possession of acoustic properties thoroughly adapted to the old makers' purpose, and that the scarcity of suitable wood was such as to make them hoard and make use of every particle. The selection of material was hence considered to be of prime importance by these makers; and by careful study they brought it to a state of great perfection. The knowledge they gained of this vital branch of their art is enveloped in a similar obscurity to that which conceals their famous varnish, and in these branches of Violin manufacture rests the secret of the Italian success, and until it is rediscovered the Cremonese will remain unequalled in the manufacture of Violins. We may now pass to the consideration of the various constituent parts of a Violin. It will be found, if a Violin be taken to pieces, that it is constructed of no less than fifty-eight separate parts, an astonishing number of factors for so small and simple-looking an instrument. The back is made of maple or sycamore, in one or two parts; the belly of the finest quality of Swiss pine, and from a piece usually divided; the sides, like the back, of maple, in six pieces, bent to the required form by means of a heated iron; the linings, which are used to secure the back and belly to the sides, are twelve in number, sometimes made of lime-tree, but also of pine. The bass or sound-bar is of pine, placed under the left foot of the bridge in a slightly oblique position, in order to facilitate the vibrating by giving about the same position as the line of the strings. The divergence is usually one-twelfth of an inch, throughout its entire length of ten inches. It is curious to discover that this system of placing the bar was adopted by Brensius of Bologna, a Viol-maker of the fifteenth century, and by Gasparo da Salo. The later Violin-makers, however, for the most part, do not appear to have followed the example, they having placed it in a straight line, thus leaving the system to be re-discovered. The bar of the Violin not only serves the purpose of strengthening the instrument in that part where the pressure of the bridge is greatest, but forms a portion of the structure at once curious and deeply interesting; it may indeed be called the nervous system of the Violin, so exquisitely sensitive is it to external touch. The slightest alteration in its position will effect such changes in the tone as often to make a good Violin worthless. Those troublesome notes technically known as "wolf notes" by its delicate adjustment are sometimes removed, or passed to intervals where the disagreeable sound is felt with less intensity. Numerous attempts have been made to reduce these features to a philosophy, but the realisation of the coveted discovery appears as distant as ever. The most minute variation in the construction of the instrument necessitates a different treatment of this active agent as regards its conjunction with the bridge; and when it is considered that scarcely two Violins can be found of exactly identical structure, it must be admitted that the difficulties in the way of laying down any set of hard and fast rules for their regulation seem to be insuperable. The next important feature of the internal organism is the sound-post, which serves many purposes. It is the medium by which the vibratory powers of the instrument are set in motion; it gives support to the right side of the belly, it transmits vibrations, and regulates both the power and quality of tone. The terms used for this vital factor of a Violin on the Continent at once prove its importance. The Italians and French call it the "Soul," and the Germans the "Voice." If we accept the bass-bar as the nervous system of a Violin, the sound-post may be said to perform the functions of the heart with unerring regularity. The pulsations of sound are regulated by this admirable contrivance. If mellowness of quality be sought, a slight alteration of its position or form will produce a favourable change of singular extent; if intensity of tone be requisite, the sound-post is again the regulator. It must, of course, be understood that its power of changing the quality of the tone is limited in proportion to the constitutional powers of the instrument in each case. It is not pretended that a badly constructed instrument can be made a good one by means of this subtle regulator, any more than a naturally weak person can be made robust by diet and hygiene. The position of the sound-post is usually one-eighth to three-eighths of an inch behind the right foot of the bridge, the distance being variable according to the model of the instrument. If the Violin be high-built, the post requires to be nearer the bridge, that its action may be stronger; whilst flat-modelled instruments require that the post be set further away from the bridge. It is not possible to have any uniform arrangement of the sound-post in all instruments; as we have remarked before in reference to the bass-bar, the variations in the thickness, outline, model, &c., of the Violin are so frequent as to defy identity of treatment; uniformity has been sought for, but without success. The post can only be adjusted by a skilful workman, who either plays himself or has the advantage of having the various adjustments tested by a performer. The necessity of leaving this exceedingly delicate matter in practised hands cannot be too strongly impressed upon the amateur, for the damage done in consequence of want of skill is often irreparable. There are two methods of setting the sound-post in the instrument: the first fixes it in such a position as to place the grain of the post parallel with the grain of the belly; the second sets it crosswise. The next important feature to be mentioned is the bridge, which forms no small part of the vibrating mechanism of the instrument, and needs the utmost skill in its arrangement. Its usual position is exactly between the two small niches marked in each sound-hole, but this arrangement is sometimes altered in the case of the stop being longer or shorter. Many forms of bridges have been in use at different periods, but that now adopted is, without doubt, the best. In selecting a bridge great care is requisite that the wood be suitable to the constitution of the Violin. If the instrument is wanting in brilliancy, a bridge having solidity of fibre is necessary; if wanting in mellowness, one possessing soft qualities should be selected. We now pass to the neck of the Violin, which is made of sycamore or plane-tree. Its length has been increased since the days of the great Italian masters, who seem to have paid but little attention to this portion of the instrument, in regard to its appearance and as to the wood used for its manufacture, which was of the plainest description. It may be observed that in those times the florid passages which we now hear in Violin music were in their infancy, the first and second positions being those chiefly used; hence the little attention paid to the handle of the instrument. Modern requirements have made it imperative that the neck should be well shaped, neither too flat nor too round, but of a happy medium. The difficulties of execution are sensibly lessened when due attention is paid to this requirement. The finger-board is of ebony, and varies a little in length according to the position of the sound-holes. To form the board properly is a delicate operation, for if it be not carefully made the strings jar against it, and the movements of the bow are impeded. The nut, or rest, is that small piece of ebony over which the strings pass on the finger-board. The purfling is composed of three strips of lime-tree, two of which are stained black. Whalebone purfling has been frequently used, particularly by the old Amsterdam makers. The principal parts of the instrument have now been described, and there remain only the pegs, blocks, strings, and tail-piece, the sum of which makes up the number of fifty-eight constituent parts as before mentioned. There is still, however, one item of the construction to be mentioned which does not form a separate portion of the Violin, but which is certainly worthy of notice, viz., the button, which is that small piece of wood against which the heel of the neck rests. The difficulty of making this apparently insignificant piece can only be understood by those who have gone through the various stages of Violin manufacture. The amount of finish given to the button affects in a great measure the whole instrument, and if there is any defect of style it is sure to be apparent here. It is a prominent feature, and the eye naturally rests upon it: as the key-stone to the arch, so is the button to the Violin. The sound-holes, or _f_-holes, it is almost needless to remark, are features of vital importance. Upon the form given to them, and the manner of cutting them, largely depend the volume and quality of tone. The Italian makers of Brescia and Cremona appear to have been aware of the singular influence the formation of the sound-hole has upon the production and quality of sound. The variety of original shapes they gave to them is evidence of their knowledge. Appearance in keeping with the outline of their design may have influenced them in some measure, but not entirely. Most makers used patterns from which to cut their sound-holes; Joseph Guarneri and some others appear to have drawn them on the belly, and cut them accordingly. From the foregoing remarks upon the various portions of the Violin it may be assumed that the reader has gained sufficient insight into the process of its manufacture to enable him to dispense with a more minute description of each stage. In conclusion, I cannot refrain from cautioning possessors of good instruments against entrusting them into the barbaric hands of pretended repairers, who endeavour to persuade them into the belief that it is necessary to do this, that, and the other for their benefit. The quack doctors of the Violin are legion--they are found in every town and city, ready to prey upon the credulity of the lovers of Fiddles, and the injury they inflict on their helpless patients is frequently irreparable. Unfortunately, amateurs are often prone to be continually unsettling their instruments by trying different bars, sound-posts, &c., without considering the danger they run of damaging their property instead of improving it. Should your instrument need any alteration, no matter how slight, consult only those who have made the subject a special study. There are a few such men to be found in the chief cities of Europe, men whose love for the instrument is of such a nature that it would not permit them to recommend alterations prejudicial to its well-being. SECTION III Italian and other Strings Upon the strings of the Violin depends in a great measure the successful regulation of the instrument. If, after the careful adjustment of bridge, sound-post, and bass-bar, strings are added which have not been selected with due care and regard to their relative proportion, the labour expended upon the important parts named is at once rendered useless. Frequently the strings are the objects least considered when the regulation of a Violin is attempted; but if this be the case, results anything but satisfactory ensue. It is, therefore, important that every Violinist should endeavour to make himself acquainted with the different varieties and powers of strings, that he may arrange his instrument with due facility. The remarkable conservatism attending the structural formation of the Violin exists more or less in the appliances necessary for the awakening of its dormant music. If we turn to its pegs, we find them of the same character as the peg of its far-removed ancestor, the monochord; and if we compare the Italian peg of the seventeenth century with a modern one, the chief difference lies in the latter being more gross and ugly. Upon turning to the bridge, we see that the bridge of to-day is almost identical with the bridge of Stradivari; and when we come to the strings of the Violin, we discover that we have added but little, if anything, to the store of information regarding them possessed by our forefathers. In, perhaps, the earliest book on the Lute, that of Adrian Le Roy, published in Paris in 1570, and translated into English in 1574,[1] we read: "I will not omit to give you to understand how to know strings." "It is needful to prove them between the hands in the manner set forth in the figures hereafter pictured, which show on the finger and to the eye the difference from the true with the false." The instructions here given, it will be seen, are those set forth by Louis Spohr in his "Violin School." In the famous musical work of Merseene, published in 1648, we find an interesting account of strings; he says they are of "metal, and the intestines of sheep." "The thicker chords of the great Viols and of Lutes are made of thirty or forty single intestines, and the best are made in Rome and some other cities in Italy. This superiority is owing to the air, the water, or the herbage on which the sheep of Italy feed." He adds that "chords may be made of silk, flax, or other material," but that "animal chords are far the best." The experience of upwards of two centuries has not shaken the soundness of Merseene's opinion of the superiority of gut strings over those made of silk and steel. Although strings of steel and silk are made to some extent on account of their durability and their fitness for warm climates, no Violinist familiar with the true quality of tone belonging to his instrument is likely to torture his ears with the sound of strings made with thread or iron. Continuing our inquiries among the old musical writers in reference to the subject of strings, we find Doni says in his musical treatise, published in 1647: "There are many particulars relating to the construction of instruments which are unknown to modern artificers, as, namely, that the best strings are made when the north and the worst when the south wind blows," a truism well understood by experienced string manufacturers. Thomas Mace, in his curious book on the Lute, enters at some length into the question of strings, and speaks in glowing terms of his _Venetian Catlins_. The above references to strings, met with in the writers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, indicate a full knowledge of the most important facts concerning them on the part of the musicians and makers of those days; and notwithstanding our superior mechanical contrivances in the manufacture, it is doubtful whether modern strings are generally equal to those made in times when leisure waited on quality, in lieu of speed on quantity. [Footnote 1: Fetis, in his notice of Le Roy, states that the first edition of this rare book was published in 1557, and was translated by J. Alford into English in 1568.] [Illustration: Hands testing strings.] Musical strings are manufactured in Italy, Germany, France, and England. The Italians rank first, as in past times, in this manufacture, their proficiency being evident in the three chief requisites for string, viz., high finish, great durability, and purity of sound. There are manufactories at Rome, Naples, Padua, and Verona, the separate characteristics of which are definitely marked in their produce. Those strings which are manufactured at Rome are exceedingly hard and brilliant, and exhibit a slight roughness of finish. The Neapolitan samples are smoother and softer than the Roman, and also whiter in appearance. Those of Padua are highly polished and durable, but frequently false. The Veronese strings are softer than the Paduan, and deeper in colour. The variations described are distinct, and the more remarkable that all the four kinds are produced by one and the same nation; as, however, the raw material is identical throughout Italy, the process of manufacture must be looked upon as the real cause of the difference noticed. The German strings now rank next to the Italian, Saxony being the seat of manufacture. They may be described as very white and smooth, the better kinds being very durable. Their chief fault arises from their being over-bleached, and hence faulty in sound. The French take the third place in the manufacture. Their strings are carefully made, and those of the larger sizes answer well; but the smaller strings are wanting in durability. The English manufacture all qualities, but chiefly the cheaper kinds; they are durable, but unevenly made, and have a dark appearance. The cause of variation in quality of the several kinds enumerated arises simply from the difference of climate. In Italy an important part of the manufacture is carried on in the open air, and the beautiful climate is made to effect that which has to be done artificially in other countries. Hence the Italian superiority. Southern Germany adopts, to some extent, similar means in making strings; France, to a less degree; while England is obliged to rely solely on artificial processes. It therefore amounts to this--the further from Italy the seat of manufacture, the more inferior the string. From the foregoing references we find that strings, although called "catgut," are not made from the intestines of that domestic animal. Whether they were originally so made, and hence derive their name, it is impossible to learn. Marston, the old dramatist, says: "How the musicians Hover with nimble sticks o'er squeaking Crowds,[2] Tickling the dried guts of a mewing cat." We may be sure, however, that had the raw material been drawn from that source up to the present time, there would have been no need to check the supply of the feline race by destroying nine kittens out of ten; on the contrary, the rearing of cats would indeed have been a lucrative occupation. A time-honoured error is thus commemorated in a word, the origin of which must be ascribed to want of thought. If the number of cats requisite for the string manufacture be considered for a moment, it is easy to see that Shylock's "harmless necessary" domestics are under no contribution in this matter. Strings are made from the intestines of the sheep and goat, chiefly of the former. The best qualities are made from the intestines of the lamb, the strength of which is very great if compared with those of a sheep more than a year old. This being so, the chief manufacture of the year is carried on in the month of September, the September string-makings being analogous to October brewings. The demand for strings made at this particular season far exceeds the supply, and notably is this the case with regard to strings of small size, which have to bear so great a strain that if they were not made of the best material there would be little chance of their endurance. To enter into a description of the various processes of the manufacture is unnecessary, as it would form a subject of little interest to the general reader; we may therefore conclude this brief notice of strings by a few rules to be observed in their selection. [Footnote 2: The old English name for a Fiddle.] Endeavour to obtain strings of uniform thickness throughout, a requisite which can only be insured by careful gauging. In selecting the E string, choose those that are most transparent; the seconds and thirds, as they are made with several threads, are seldom very clear. The firsts never have more than a few threads in them, and hence, absence of transparency in their case denotes inferior material. Before putting on the first string, in particular, in order to test its purity it will be well to follow Le Roy's advice, which is to hold between the fingers of each hand a portion of the string sufficient to stretch from the bridge to the nut, and to set it in vibration. If two lines only be apparent, the string is free from falseness; but if a third line be produced, the contrary conclusion must be assumed. In the case of seconds and thirds we cannot always rely on this test, as the number of threads used in their manufacture frequently prevents the line from being perfectly clear. The last precaution of moment is to secure perfect fifths, which can only be done by taking care that the four strings are in true proportion and uniform with each other. To string a violin correctly is a very difficult undertaking, and requires considerable patience. The first consideration should be the constitution of the Violin: the strings that please one instrument torture another. Neither Cremonese Violins nor old instruments in general require to be heavily strung: the mellowness of the wood and their delicate construction require the stringing to be such as will assist in bringing out that richness of tone which belongs to first-rate instruments. If the bridge and sound-board be heavily weighted with thick strings, vibration will surely be checked. In the case of modern instruments, heavy in wood, and needing constant use to wear down their freshness, strings of a larger size may be used with advantage, and particularly when such instruments are in use for orchestral purposes. [Illustration: _Plate III_. VIOLONCELLO BY ANTONIO STRADIVARI. PRESENTED TO SIGNOR PIATTI BY GENERAL OLIVER. (Herr Robert Mendelssohn.)] Vast improvements have been effected in the stringing of Violins within the last thirty years. Strings of immense size were used alike on Violins, Violoncellos, Tenors, and Double Basses. Robert Lindley, the king of English Violoncellists, used a string for his first very nearly equal in size to the second of the present time, and the same robust proportion was observed in his other strings. The Violoncello upon which he played was by Forster, and would bear much heavier stringing than an Italian instrument; and, again, he was a most forcible player, and his power of fingering quite exceptional. Dragonetti, the famous Double-Bass player, and coadjutor of Lindley, possessed similar powers, and used similar strings as regards size. Their system of stringing was adopted indiscriminately. Instruments whether weakly or strongly built received uniform treatment, the result being in many cases an entire collapse, and the most disappointing effects in tone. It was vainly supposed that the ponderous strings of Dragonetti and Lindley were the talisman by use of which their tone would follow as a matter of course, whereas in point of fact it was scarcely possible to make the instruments utter a sound when deprived of the singular muscular power possessed by those famous players. After Lindley's death his system passed away gradually, and attention was directed to the better adaptation of strings to the instrument, and also to the production of perfect fifths. We have now only to speak of covered strings, in which it is more difficult to obtain perfection than in the case of those of gut. There are several kinds of covered strings. There are those of silver wire, which are very durable, and have a soft quality of sound very suitable to old instruments, and are therefore much used by artistes; there are those of copper plated with silver, and also of copper without plating, which have a powerful sound; and, lastly, there are those which are made with mixed wire, an arrangement which prevents in a measure the tendency to rise in pitch, a disadvantage common to covered strings and caused by expansion of the metals; these strings also possess a tone which is a combination of that produced by silver and copper strings. Here again, however, great discrimination is needed, viz., before putting on the fourth string. The instrument must be understood. There are Violins which will take none but fourths of copper, there are others that would be simply crippled by their adoption. It cannot be too much impressed upon the mind of the player that the Violin requires deep and patient study with regard to every point connected with its regulation. So varied are these instruments in construction and constitution, that before their powers can be successfully developed they must be humoured, and treated as the child of a skilful educator, who watches to gain an insight into the character of his charge, and then adopts the best means for its advancement according to the circumstances ascertained. The strain and pressure of the strings upon a Violin being an interesting subject of inquiry, I give the annexed particulars (_see_ Table below) from experiments made in conjunction with a friend interested in the subject, and possessed of the necessary knowledge to arrive at accurate results. * * * * * The Violin being held in a frame in a nearly upright position, so that the string hung just clear of the nut to avoid friction, the note was obtained by pressing the string to the nut. When the Violin was laid in a horizontal position, and the string passed over a small pulley, an additional weight of two or three pounds was required to overcome the friction on the nut and that of the pulley. Therefore it is probable that the difference in the results obtained by other experiments may have arisen from the different methods employed. But with a dead weight hung on the end of each string there could be no error. TENSION OF VIOLIN STRINGS. _Ascertained by Hanging a Dead Weight on the End of the String_. +-------+--------+------------+------------+------------+------------+ | | |Tension in | | | | | | |lbs. Weight,| | | | | | |hung on the | | Downward | Downward | | | |end of the | | Pressure | Pressure | | | |String to | Downward | on the | on the | |Number | |bring it to | Pressure | Treble Foot| Bass Foot | |of the | |Concert | on the | of the | of the | |String.| SIZE. |Pitch. | Bridge. | Bridge. | Bridge. | +-------+--------+------------+------------+------------+------------+ | | | lb. | lb. oz. | lb. oz. | lb. oz. | | 1st | Thick | 23 | 10 3-1/4 | 10 3-1/4 | ---- | | " | Medium | 22 | 9 12 | 9 12 | ---- | | " | Small | 18 | 8 0 | 8 0 | ---- | | | | | | | | | 2nd | Thick | 15-1/2 | 6 14 | 4 9-1/2 | 2 4-1/2 | | " | Medium | 15-1/4 | 6 11-1/4 | 4 7-1/4 | 2 4 | | " | Small | 13-1/2 | 6 0 | 4 0 | 2 0 | | | | | | | | | 3rd | Thick | 13-1/4 | 5 14 | 1 15-1/4 | 3 14-3/4 | | " | Medium | 12-3/4 | 5 10-1/2 | 1 13-3/4 | 3 12-3/4 | | " | Small | 11 | 4 14 | 1 10 | 3 4 | | | | | | | | | 4th | Thick | 11 | 4 14 | ---- | 4 14 | | " | Medium | 10-1/2 | 4 10-1/2 | ---- | 4 10-1/2 | | " | Small | Say 10 | 4 7 | ---- | 4 7 | | | | | | | | The total of | | | | | | four thick | | | | | | strings is | 62-3/4 | 27 13-1/4 | 16 12 | 11 1-1/4 | | | | | | | | The total of | | | | | | four small | | | | | | strings is | 52-1/2 | 23 5 | 13 10 | 9 11 | +----------------+------------+------------+------------+------------+ B A C is the average angle formed by a string passing over the bridge of a Violin, and the tension acts equally in the direction A B, A C. [Illustration of angles of the strings.] Take A C=A B. From the point B draw B D parallel to A C. And from the point C draw C D parallel to A B, cutting B D at D. Join A D. Then, if a force acting on the point A, in the direction of A B, be represented in magnitude by the line A B, an equal force acting in the direction A C will be represented by the line A C, and the diagonal A D will represent the direction and magnitude of the force acting on the point A, to keep it at rest. N.B.--The bridge of a Violin does not divide the angle B A C quite equally, but so nearly that A D may be taken as the position of the bridge. Also, the plane passing through the string of a Violin, on both sides of the bridge, is not quite perpendicular to the belly. To introduce this variation into the calculation would render that less simple, and it will be sufficient to state that about the 150th part must be deducted from the downward pressures given in the above table from the first and fourth strings, and about the 300th part for the second and third strings. The total to be deducted for the four strings will not exceed three ounces. On the line A B or A C set off a scale of equal parts, beginning at A, and on A D a similar scale beginning at A. Mark off on the scale A B as many divisions as there are lbs. in the tension of a string, for example 18, and from that point draw a line parallel to B D, cutting A D at the point 8 in that scale. Then, if the tension of a string be 18 lb., the downward pressure on the bridge will be 8 lb.; and therefore for the above angle the downward pressure of any string on the bridge will be 8/18=4/9 of the tension of that string. The whole of the downward pressure of the first string falls upon the Treble Foot of the Bridge. The downward pressure of the second string is about 2/3 the Treble Foot of the Bridge, and 1/3 on the Bass Foot. The downward pressure of the third string is about 1/3 on the Treble Foot, and 2/3 on the Bass Foot. The whole of the downward pressure of the fourth string falls upon the Bass Foot of the Bridge. SECTION IV The Italian School The fifteenth century may be considered as the period when the art of making instruments of the Viol class took root in Italy, a period rich in men labouring in the cause of Art. The long list of honoured names connected with Art in Italy during the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries is a mighty roll-call indeed! The memory dwells upon the number of richly-stored minds that have, within the limits of these three centuries, bequeathed their art treasures to all time; and if here we cannot suppress a comparison of the art world of the present Italy with that of the periods named, still less can we fail to be astonished as we discover the abyss into which Italy must be judged to have sunk in point of merit, when measured by the high standard which in former days she set herself. But perhaps the greatest marvel of all is the rapidity of the decadence when it once set in, as it did immediately after the culminating point of artistic fame had been reached. To reflect for a moment upon the many famous men in Italy engaged in artistic vocations contemporary with the great Viol and Violin makers cannot fail to be interesting to the lovers of our instrument, for it has the effect of surrounding their favourite with an interest extending beyond its own path. It also serves to make prominent the curious fact that the art of Italian Violin-making emerged from its chrysalis state when the painters of Italy displayed their greatest strength of genius, and perfected itself when the Fine Arts of Italy were cast in comparative darkness. It is both interesting and remarkable that the art of Italian Violin-making--which in its infancy shared with all the arts the advantage attending the revival of art and learning--should have been the last to mature and die. Whilst the artist, scientist, and musician, Leonardo da Vinci, was painting, inventing, and singing his sonnets to the accompaniment of his Lute; whilst Raphael was executing the commands of Leo X., and Giorgio was superintending the manufacture of his inimitable majolica ware, the Viol-makers of Bologna were designing their instruments and assimilating them to the registers of the human voice, in order that the parts of Church and chamber madrigals might be played instead of sung, or that the voices might be sustained by the instruments.[1] [Footnote 1: The importance of this epoch in its bearings upon instrumental music generally, and stringed instrument music in particular, can hardly be over-estimated. It may be said that in the Middle Ages no written music for instruments existed. The melodies and accompaniments produced from instruments were either extemporaneous or parrot-like imitations of vocal music. Madrigals and a few dances constituted the food upon which instruments were nursed until towards the close of the sixteenth century, when Gabrielli, or a contemporary musician, prepared a special and distinct aliment, the outcome of which is found in the symphonies of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven.] If we turn to the days of Gasparo da Salo, Maggini, and Andrea Amati, we find that while they were sending forth their Fiddles, Titian was painting his immortal works, and Benvenuto Cellini, the greatest goldsmith of his own or any age, was setting the jewels of popes and princes, and enamelling the bindings of their books. Whilst the master-minds of Antonio Stradivari and Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu were occupied with those instruments which have caused their names to be known throughout the civilised world (and _un_civilised too, for many thousands of Violins are yearly made into which their cherished names are thrust, after which they are despatched for the negro's use), Canaletto was painting his Venetian squares and canals, Venetians whose names are unrecorded were blowing glass of wondrous form and beauty. At the same time, in the musical world, Corelli was writing his jigs and sarabands, Geminiani penning one of the first instruction books for the Violin, and Tartini dreaming his "Sonata del Diavolo"; and while Guadagnini and the stars of lesser magnitude were exercising their calling, Viotti, the originator of a school of Violin-playing, was writing his concertos, and Boccherini laying the foundation of classical chamber-music of a light and pleasing character. It would be easy to continue this vein of thought, were it not likely to become irksome to the reader; enough has been said to refresh the memory as to the flourishing state of Italian art during these times. What a mine of wealth was then opened up for succeeding generations! and how curious is the fact that not only the Violin, but its music, has been the creature of the most luxurious age of art; for in that golden age musicians contemporary with the great Violin-makers were writing music destined to be better understood and appreciated when the Violins then made should have reached their maturity. That Italy's greatest Violin-makers lived in times favourable to the production of works possessing a high degree of merit, cannot be doubted. They were surrounded by composers of rare powers, and also by numerous orchestras. These orchestras, composed mainly of stringed instruments, were scattered all over Italy, Germany, and France, in churches, convents, and palaces, and must have created a great demand for bow instruments of a high class. The bare mention of a few of the names of composers then existing will be sufficient to bring to the mind of the reader well versed in musical matters the compositions to which they owe their fame. In the sixteenth century, Orlando di Lasso, Isaac, and Palestrina were engaged in writing Church music, in which stringed instruments were heard; in the seventeenth, lived Stradella, Lotti, Bononcini, Lully, and Corelli. In the eighteenth century, the period when the art of Violin-making was at its zenith, the list is indeed a glorious one. At this point is the constellation of Veracini, Geminiani, Vivaldi, Locatelli, Boccherini, Tartini, Viotti, Nardini, among the Italians; while in France it is the epoch of Leclair and Gavinies, composers of Violin music of the highest excellence. Surrounded by these men of rare genius, who lived but to disseminate a taste for the king of instruments, the makers of Violins must certainly have enjoyed considerable patronage, and doubtless those of tried ability readily obtained highly remunerative prices for their instruments, and were encouraged in their march towards perfection both in design and workmanship. Besides the many writers for the Violin, and executants, there were numbers of ardent patrons of the Cremonese and Brescian makers. Among these may be mentioned the Duke of Ferrara, Charles IX., Cardinal Ottoboni (with whom Corelli was in high favour), Cardinal Orsini (afterwards Pope Benedict XIII.), Victor Amadeus Duke of Savoy, the Duke of Modena, the Marquis Ariberti, Charles III. (afterwards Charles VI., Emperor of Germany), and the Elector of Bavaria, all of whom gave encouragement to the art by ordering complete sets of stringed instruments for their chapels and for other purposes. By the aid of such valuable patronage the makers were enabled to centre their attention on their work, and received reward commensurate with the amount of skill displayed. This had the effect of raising them above the status of the ordinary workman, and permitted them as a body to pass their lives amid comparative plenty. There are, without doubt, instances of great results obtained under trying circumstances, but the genius required to combine a successful battle with adversity with high proficiency in art is indeed a rare phenomenon. Carlyle says of such minds: "In a word, they willed one thing, to which all other things were subordinate, and made subservient, and therefore they accomplished it. The wedge will rend rocks, but its edge must be sharp and single; if it be double, the wedge is bruised in pieces, and will rend nothing." It may, therefore, be affirmed that the greatest luminaries of the art world have shone most brightly under circumstances in keeping with their peaceful labours, it not being essential to success that men highly gifted for a particular art should have this strength of will unless there were immediate call for its exercise. Judging from the large number of bow-instrument makers in Italy, more particularly during the seventeenth century, we should conclude that the Italians must have been considered as far in advance of the makers of other nations, and that they monopolised, in consequence, the chief part of the manufacture. The city of Cremona became the seat of the trade, and the centre whence, as the manufacture developed itself, other less famous places maintained their industry. In this way there arose several distinct schools of a character marked and thoroughly Italian, but not attaining the high standard reached by the parent city. Notwithstanding the inferiority of the makers of Naples, Florence, and other homes of the art as compared with the Cremonese, they seem to have received a fair amount of patronage, the number of instruments manufactured in these places of lesser fame being considerable. To enable the reader to understand more readily the various types of Italian Violins, they may be classed as the outcome of five different schools. The first is that of Brescia, dating from about 1520 to 1620, which includes Gasparo da Salo, Maggini, and a few others of less note. The next, and most important school, was that of Cremona, dating from 1550 to 1760, or even later, and including the following makers: Andrea Amati, Girolamo Amati, Antonio Amati, Niccolo Amati, Girolamo Amati, son of Niccolo; Andrea Guarneri, Pietro Guarneri, Giuseppe Guarneri, the son of Andrea; Giuseppe Guarneri ("del Gesu"), the nephew of Andrea; Antonio Stradivari, and Carlo Bergonzi. Several well-known makers have been omitted in the foregoing list simply because they were followers of those mentioned, and therefore cannot be credited with originality of design. The makers of Milan and Naples may be braced together as one school, under the name of _Neapolitan_, dating from 1680 to 1800. This school contains makers of good repute, viz., the members of the Grancino family, Carlo Testore, Paolo Testore, the Gagliano family, and Ferdinando Landolfi. The makers of Florence, Bologna, and Rome may likewise be classed together in a school that dates from 1680 to 1760, and includes the following names: Gabrielli, Anselmo, Tecchler, and Tononi. The Venetian school, dating from 1690 to 1764, has two very prominent members in Domenico Montagnana and Santo Seraphino; but the former maker may, not inappropriately, be numbered with those of Cremona, for he passed his early years in that city, and imbibed all the characteristics belonging to its chief makers. Upon glancing at this imposing list of makers, it is easy to understand that it must have been a lucrative trade which in those days gave support to so many; and, further, that Italy, as compared with Germany, France, or England at that period, must have possessed, at least, more makers by two-thirds than either of those three countries. And this goes far to prove, moreover, that the Italian makers received extensive foreign patronage, their number being far in excess of that required to supply their own country's wants in the manufacture of Violins. Roger North, in his "Memoirs of Musick," evidences the demand for Italian Violins in the days of James II. He remarks: "Most of the young nobility and gentry that have travelled into Italy affected to learn of Corelli, and brought home with them such favour for the Italian music, as hath given it possession of our Parnassus. And the best utensil of Apollo, _the Violin_, is so universally courted and sought after, to be had of the best sort, that some say England hath dispeopled Italy of Violins." We also read of William Corbett, a member of the King's band, having formed about the year 1710 a "gallery of Cremonys and Stainers" during his residence in Rome. Brescia was the cradle of Italian Violin-making, for the few makers of bowed instruments (among whom were Gaspard Duiffoprugcar, who established himself at Bologna; Dardelli, of Mantua; Linarolli and Maller, of Venice) cannot be counted among Violin-makers. The only maker, therefore, of the Violin of the earliest date, it remains to be said, was Gasparo da Salo, to whom belongs the credit of raising the manufacture of bowed instruments from a rude state to an art. There may be something in common between the early works of Gasparo da Salo and Gaspard Duiffoprugcar, but the link that connects these two makers is very slight, and in the absence of further information respecting the latter as an actual maker of Violins, the credit of authorship must certainly belong to Gasparo da Salo. We are indebted to Brescia for the many grand Double-basses and Tenors that were made there by Gasparo da Salo and Maggini. These instruments formed the stepping-stones to Italian Violin-making, for it is evident that they were in use long before the first era of the Violin. The Brescian Violins have not the appearance of antiquity that is noticeable in the Double-basses or Tenors, and for one Brescian Violin there are ten Double-basses, a fact which goes far to prove that the latter was the principal instrument at that time. [Illustration: _Plate IV_. ANTONIO STRADIVARI. Date 1734. (LATE LORD AMHERST OF HACKNEY.) THE EMPEROR "STRAD." Date 1715. (LATE GEO. HADDOCK, ESQ.) GUARNERI DEL GESU. Date 1734. (LATE LORD AMHERST OF HACKNEY.)] From Brescia came the masters who established the School of Cremona. The Amatis took the lead, their founder being Andrea Amati, after whom each one of the clan appears to have gained a march on his predecessor, until the grand masters of their art, Antonio Stradivari and Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu, advanced far beyond the reach of their fellow-makers or followers. The pupils of the Amati, Stradivari, and Guarneri settled in Milan, Florence, and other cities previously mentioned as centres of Violin-making, and thus formed the distinct character or School belonging to each city. A close study of the various Schools shows that there is much in common among them. A visible individuality is found throughout the works of the Italian makers, which is not to be met with in anything approaching the same degree in the similar productions of other nations. Among the Italians, each artist appears to have at first implicitly obeyed the teaching of his master, afterwards, as his knowledge increased, striking out a path for himself. To such important acts of self-reliance may be traced the absolute perfection to which the Italians at last attained. Not content with the production of instruments capable of producing the best tone, they strove to give them the highest finish, and were rewarded, possibly beyond their expectation. The individuality noticed as belonging in a high degree to Italian work is in many instances very remarkable. How characteristic the scroll and the sound-hole of each several maker! The work of master and pupil differs here in about the same degree as the handwriting of father and son, and often more. Although Stradivari was a pupil of Niccolo Amati, yet how marked is the difference between the scrolls and sound-holes of these two makers; Carlo Bergonzi worked with Stradivari, yet the productions of these two are more easily known apart. A similarly well-defined originality is found, in a more or less degree, to pervade the entire series of Italian Violins, and forms a feature of much interest to the connoisseur. In closing my remarks upon the Italian School of Violin-making, I cannot withhold from the reader the concluding sentences of the Cremonese biographer, Vincenzo Lancetti, as contained in his manuscript relative to the makers of Cremona. He says: "I cannot help but deeply deplore the loss to my native city (where for two centuries the manufacture of stringed instruments formed an active and profitable trade) of the masterpieces of its renowned Violin-makers, together with the drawings, moulds, and patterns, the value of which would be inestimable to those practising the art. Is it not possible to find a citizen to do honour to himself and his city by securing the collection of instruments, models, and forms brought together by Count Cozio di Salabue, before the treasure be lost to Italy? I have the authority of Count Cozio to grant to such a patron every facility for the purchase and transfer of the collection, conditionally that the object be to resuscitate the art of Violin-making in Cremona, which desire alone prompted the Count in forming the collection." These interesting remarks were written in the year 1823, with a view to their publication at the end of the account of Italian Violin-makers which Lancetti purposed publishing. As the work did not see the light, the appeal of the first writer on the subject of Italian Violins was never heard. Had it been, in all probability Cremona would at this moment have been in possession of the most remarkable collection of instruments and models ever brought together, and be maintaining in at least some measure the prestige belonging to its past in Violin-making. SECTION V The Italian Varnish A word or two must be said upon the famous varnish of the Italians, which has hitherto baffled all attempts to solve the mystery of its formation. Every instrument belonging to the school of Cremona has it, more or less, in all its marvellous beauty, and to these instruments the resolute investigator turns, promising himself the discovery of its constituent parts. The more its lustre penetrates his soul, the more determined become his efforts. As yet, however, all such praiseworthy researches have been futile, and the composition of the Cremonese varnish remains a secret lost to the world--as much so as the glorious ruby lustre of Maestro Giorgio, and the blue so coveted by connoisseurs of china. Mr. Charles Reade truly says: "No wonder, then, that many Violin-makers have tried hard to discover the secret of this varnish: many chemists have given anxious days and nights to it. More than once, even in my time, hopes have run high, but only to fall again. Some have even cried 'Eureka' to the public; but the moment others looked at their discovery and compared it with the real thing, 'Inextinguishable laughter shook the skies.' At last despair has succeeded to all that energetic study, and the varnish of Cremona is sullenly given up as a lost art." Declining, therefore, all speculation as to what the varnish is or what it is not, or any nostrums for its re-discovery, we will pass on at once to the description of the different Italian varnishes, which may be divided into four distinct classes, viz., the Brescian, Cremonese, Neapolitan, and Venetian. These varnishes are quite separable in one particular, which is, the depth of their colouring; and yet three of them, the Brescian, Cremonese, and Venetian, have to all appearance a common basis. This agreement may be accounted for with some show of reason by the supposition that there must have been a depot in each city where the varnish was sold in an incomplete form, and that the depth of colour used, or even the means adopted for colouring, rested with the maker of the instrument. If we examine the Brescian varnish, we find an almost complete resemblance between the material of Gasparo da Salo and that of his coadjutors, the colouring only being different. Upon turning to the Cremonese, we find that Guarneri, Stradivari, Carlo Bergonzi, and a few others, used varnish having the same characteristics, but, again, different in shade; possibly the method of laying it upon the instrument was peculiar to each maker. Similar facts are observable in the Venetian specimens. The varnish of Naples, again, is of a totally different composition, and as it was chiefly in vogue after the Cremonese was lost, we may conclude that it was probably produced by the Neapolitan makers for their own need. If we reflect for a moment upon the extensive use which these makers made of the Cremonese varnish, it is reasonable to suppose that it was an ordinary commodity in their days, and that there was then no secret in the matter at all. To account for its sudden disappearance and total loss is, indeed, not easy. After 1760, or even at an earlier date, all trace of it is obliterated. The demand for it was certainly not so great as it had been, but quite sufficient to prevent the supply from dying out had it been possible. The problem of its sudden disappearance may, perhaps, be accounted for without overstepping the bounds of possibility, if we suppose that the varnish was composed of a particular gum quite common in those days, extensively used for other purposes besides the varnishing of Violins, and thereby caused to be a marketable article. Suddenly, we will suppose, the demand for its supply ceased, and the commercial world troubled no further about the matter. The natural consequence would be non-production. It is well known that there are numerous instances of commodities once in frequent supply and use, but now entirely obsolete and extinct. While, however, our attention has been mainly directed to the basis of the celebrated varnish, it must not be supposed that its colouring is of no importance. In this particular each maker had the opportunity of displaying his skill and judgment, and probably it was here, if anywhere, that the secret rested. The gist of the matter, then, is simply that the varnish was common to all, but the colouring and mode of application belonged solely to the maker, and hence the varied and independent appearance of each separate instrument. With regard, however, to the general question as to what the exact composition of the gum was or was not, I shall hazard no further speculation, and am profoundly conscious of the fact that my present guesses have gained no nearer approaches to the re-discovery of the buried treasure. A description, however, of the various Italian varnishes may not be inappropriate. The Brescian is mostly of a rich brown colour and soft texture, but not so clear as the Cremonese. The Cremonese is of various shades, the early instruments of the school being chiefly amber-coloured, afterwards deepening into a light red of charming appearance, later still into a rich brown of the Brescian type, though more transparent, and frequently broken up, while the earlier kinds are velvet-like. The Venetian is also of various shades, chiefly light red, and exceedingly transparent. The Neapolitan varnish (a generic term including that of Milan and a few other places) is very clear, and chiefly yellow in colour, but wanting the dainty softness of the Cremonese. It is quite impossible to give such a description of these varnishes as will enable the reader at once to recognise them; the eye must undergo considerable exercise before it can discriminate the various qualities; practice, however, makes it so sharp that often from a piece of varnishing the size of a shilling it will obtain evidence sufficient to decide upon the rank of the Violin. And here, before we dismiss the subject of the varnish, another interesting question occurs: What is its effect, apart from the beauty of its appearance, upon the efficiency of the instrument? The idea that the varnish of a Violin has some influence upon its tone has often been ridiculed, and we can quite understand that it must appear absurd to those who have not viewed the question in all its bearings. Much misconception has arisen from pushing this theory about the varnish either too far or not far enough. What seems sometimes to be implied by enthusiasts is, that the form of the instrument is of little importance provided the varnish is good, which amounts to saying that a common Violin may be made good by means of varnishing it. The absurdity of such a doctrine is self-evident. On the other hand, there are rival authorities who attach no importance to varnish in relation to tone. That the varnish does influence the tone there is strong proof, and to make this plain to the reader should not be difficult. The finest varnishes are those of oil, and they require the utmost skill and patience in their use. They dry very slowly, and may be described as of a soft and yielding nature. The common varnish is known as spirit varnish; it is easily used and dries rapidly, in consideration of which qualities it is generally adopted in these days of high pressure. It may be described as precisely the reverse of the oil varnish; it is hard and unyielding. Now a Violin varnished with fine oil varnish, like all good things, takes time to mature, and will not bear forcing in any way. At first the instrument is somewhat muffled, as the pores of the wood have become impregnated with oil. This makes the instrument heavy both in weight and sound; but as time rolls on the oil dries, leaving the wood mellowed and wrapped in an elastic covering which yields to the tone of the instrument and imparts to it much of its own softness. We will now turn to spirit varnish. When this is used a diametrically opposite effect is produced. The Violin is, as it were, wrapped in glass, through which the sound passes, imbued with the characteristics of the varnish. The result is, that the resonance produced is metallic and piercing, and well calculated for common purposes; if, however, richness of tone be required, spirit-varnished instruments cannot supply it. From these remarks the reader may gather some notion of the vexed question of varnish in relation to tone, and be left to form his own opinion. The chief features of the Italian School of Violin-makers having been noticed, it only remains to be said that the following list of makers is necessarily incomplete. This defect arises chiefly from old forgeries. Labels used as the trade marks of many deserving makers have from time to time been removed from their lawful instruments in order that others bearing a higher marketable value might be substituted. In the subjoined list will be found all the great names, and every care has been taken to render it as complete as possible. Several names given are evidently German, most of which belong to an early period, and are chiefly those in connection with the manufacture of Lutes and Viols in Italy. These are included in the Italian list, in order to show that many Germans were engaged in making stringed instruments in Italy, about the period when Tenor and Contralto Viols with four strings were manufactured there--a circumstance worthy of note in connection with the history of Viol and Violin making in Italy, bearing in mind that four-string Viols were used in Germany when Italy used those having six strings. SECTION VI Italian Makers ABATI, Giambattista, Modena, about 1775 to 1793. ACEVO, Saluzzo. Reference is made in the "Biographie Universelle des Musiciens" to this maker having been a pupil of Gioffredo Cappa, and M. Fetis mentions his having seen a Viol da Gamba dated 1693 of this make, which belonged to Marin Marais, the famous performer on the Viol.[1] [Footnote 1: There seems good reason to question the existence of such a person, at all events as a maker of Violins.--EDITORS.] ALBANESI, Sebastiano, Cremona, 1720-1744. The pattern is bold and the model flat. Although made at Cremona, they do not properly belong to the school of that place, having the characteristics of Milanese work. The varnish is quite unlike that of Cremona. ALBANI, Paolo, Palermo, 1650-80. Is said to have been a pupil of Niccolo Amati. The pattern is broad and the work carefully executed. ALESSANDRO, named "Il Veneziano," 16th century. ALETZIE, Paolo, Munich, 1720-36. He made chiefly Tenors and Violoncellos, some of which are well-finished instruments. The varnish is inferior, both as regards quality and colour. The characteristics of this maker are German, and might be classed with that school. ALVANI, Cremona. Is said to have made instruments in imitation of those of Giuseppe Guarneri. AMATI, Andrea, Cremona. The date of birth is unknown. It is supposed to have occurred about 1520. M. Fetis gave this date from evidence furnished by the list of instruments found in the possession of the banker Carlo Carli, which belonged to Count Cozio di Salabue. Mention is made of a Rebec, attributed to Andrea Amati, dated 1546. Upon reference to the MSS. of Lancetti, I find the following account of the Rebec: "In the collection of the said Count there exists also a Violin believed to be by Andrea Amati, with the label bearing the date 1546, which must have been strung with only three strings, and which at that epoch was called Rebec by the French. The father of Mantegazza altered the instrument into one of four strings, by changing the neck and scroll." From these remarks we gather that the authorship of this interesting Violin is doubtful. There is, however, some show of evidence to connect Andrea Amati with Rebecs and Geigen, in the notable fact that most of his Violins are small, their size being that known as three-quarter, which was, I am inclined to believe, about the size of the instruments which the four-stringed Violin succeeded. As to the time when Andrea Amati worked, I am of opinion that it was a little later than has hitherto been stated. We have evidence of his being alive in the year 1611, from an entry recently discovered in the register of the parish in which Andrea Amati lived, to the effect that his second wife died on April 10, 1611, and that Andrea was then living. The discovery of this entry (together with many important and interesting ones to which I shall have occasion to refer) we owe to the patience and industry of Monsignor Gaetano Bazzi, Canon of the Cathedral of Cremona.[2] Andrea Amati claims attention not so much on account of his instruments, as from his being regarded as the founder of the school of Cremona. There is no direct evidence as to the name of the master from whom he learnt the art of making stringed instruments. If his work be carefully examined, it will appear that the only maker to whose style it can be said to bear any resemblance is Gasparo da Salo, and it is possible that the great Brescian may have instructed him in his art. It is unfortunate that there are no data for our guidance in the matter. These men often, like their brothers in Art, the painters of olden times, began to live when they were dead, and their history thus passed without record. Andrea Amati may possibly have been self-taught, but there is much in favour of the view given above on this point. His early works are so Brescian in character as to cause them to be numbered with the productions of that school. For a general designation of the instruments of this maker the following notes may suffice. The work is carefully executed. The model is high, and, in consequence, lacks power of tone; but the Violins possess a charming sweetness. The sound-hole is inelegant, has not the decision of Gasparo da Salo, although belonging to his style, and is usually broad. His varnish may be described as deep golden, of good quality. His method of cutting his material was not uniform, but he seems to have had a preference for cutting his backs in slab form, according to the example set for the most part by the Brescian makers. The sides were also made in a similar manner, the wood used being both sycamore and that known to makers as pear-tree. The instruments of Andrea Amati are now very scarce. Among the famous instruments of this maker were twenty-four Violins (twelve large and twelve small pattern), six Tenors, and eight Basses, made for Charles IX., which were kept in the Chapel Royal, Versailles, until October, 1790, when they disappeared. These were probably the finest instruments by Andrea Amati. On the backs were painted the arms of France and other devices, with the motto, _Pietate et Justitia_. In the "Archives Curieuses de l'Histoire de France," one Nicolas Delinet, a member of the French King's band, appears to have purchased in 1572 a Cremona Violin for his Majesty, for which he paid about ten pounds--a large sum, it must be confessed, when we think of its purchasing power in the sixteenth century. Mr. Sandys, who cites this curious entry, rightly conjectures it may have included incidental expenses. No mention is made of the maker of the Violin in question; we find, however, that in the collection of instruments which belonged to Sir William Curtis there was a Violoncello having the arms of France painted on the back, together with the motto above noticed. The date of the instrument was 1572. We may therefore assume that the Violin purchased by Nicolas Delinet in the same year was the work of Andrea Amati, and belonged to the famous Charles IX. set. [Footnote 2: The extracts were published by Signor Piccolellis at Florence in 1886.] AMATI, Niccolo, Cremona, brother of Andrea. Very little is known of this maker or of his instruments. AMATI, Antonio and Girolamo, sons of Andrea Amati, Cremona. Antonius et Hieronymus Fr. Amati Cremonen Andrae fil. F. There does not exist certain evidence as to the date of the birth and death of Antonio Amati. We have information of the dates on which his brother Girolamo died in extracts from parish registers; also the date of his marriages, which took place in the year 1576, and on May 24, 1584. By his second wife, Girolamo had a family of nine children; the fifth child was Niccolo, who became the famous Violin-maker. The mother of Niccolo died of the plague on October 27, 1630, and her husband, Girolamo, died of the same disease six days later, viz., November 2, 1630, and was buried on the same day. Girolamo is described in the register as "Misser Hieronimo Amati detto il leutaro della vic di S. Faustino" (viz., maker to the Church). Vincenzo Lancetti states that "Count Cozio kept a register of all the instruments seen by him, from which it appeared that the earliest reliable date of the brothers Amati is 1577, and that they worked together until 1628; that Antonio survived Jerome and made instruments until after the year 1648--a fine Violin bearing the last-named date having been recently seen with the name of Antonio alone." This information serves in some measure to set at rest much of the uncertainty relative to the period when these makers lived. These skilful makers produced some of the most charming specimens of artistic work. To them we are indebted for the first form of the instrument known as "Amatese." The early efforts of the brothers Amati have many of the characteristics belonging to the work of their father Andrea; their sound-hole is similar to his, and in keeping with the Brescian form, and the model which they at first adopted is higher than that of their later and better instruments. Although these makers placed their joint names in their Violins, it must not be supposed that each bore a proportionate part of the manufacture in every case; on the contrary, there are but few instances where such association is made manifest. The style of each was distinct, and one was immeasurably superior to the other. Antonio deviated but little from the teaching of his father. The sound-holes even of his latest instruments partake of the Brescian type, and the model is the only particular in which it may be said that a step in advance is traceable; here he wisely adopted a flatter form. His work throughout, as regards finish, is excellent. Girolamo Amati possessed in a high degree the attributes of an artist. He was richly endowed with that rare power--_originality_. It is in his instruments that we discover the form of sound-hole which Niccolo Amati improved, and, after him, the inimitable Stradivari perfected. Girolamo Amati ignored the pointed sound-hole and width in the middle portions observable in his predecessor's Violins, and designed a model of extremely elegant proportions. How graceful is the turn of the sound-hole at both the upper and lower sections! With what nicety and daintiness are the outer lines made to point to the shapely curve! Niccolo Amati certainly improved even upon Girolamo's achievements, but he did not add more grace; and the essential difference between the instruments of the two is, that there is more vigour in the sound-hole of Niccolo than that of his father Girolamo. The purfling of the brothers Amati is very beautifully executed. The scrolls differ very much, and in the earlier instruments of these makers are of a type anterior to that of the bodies. Further, the varnish on the earlier specimens is deeper in colour than that found on the later ones, which have varnish of a beautiful orange tint, sparingly laid on, and throwing up the markings of the wood with much distinctness. The material used by these makers and the mode of cutting it also varies considerably. In some specimens we find that they used backs of the slab form; in others, backs worked whole; in others, backs divided into two segments. The belly-wood is in every case of the finest description. The tone is far more powerful than that of the instruments of Andrea, and this increase of sound is obtained without any sacrifice of the richness of the quality. [Illustration: _Plate V_. CARLO BERGONZI. _Grand Pattern_. (GEO. GUDGEON, ESQ.)] AMATI, Niccolo, Cremona, born December 3, 1596, died April 12, 1684. Nicolaus Amatus Cremonen, Hieronymi Fil. ac Antonij Nepos Fecit. 16-- Son of Girolamo Amati. It is gratifying in the notice of this famous Violin-maker to be able to supply dates of his birth, marriage, and death. Niccolo was christened on December 6, 1596. His marriage took place on May 23, 1645, and it is interesting to record that his pupil Andrea Guarneri witnessed the ceremony, and signed the register. The information recently supplied by Canon Bazzi of Cremona, relative to the pupils and workmen of Niccolo Amati, who were duly registered in the books of the parish of SS. Faustino and Giovita, is fraught with interest. It seems to carry us within the precincts, if not into the workshop, of the master. Andrea Guarneri heads the list in the year 1653, age twenty-seven, and married; next comes Leopoldo Todesca, age twenty-eight; and Francesco Mola, age twelve. In the following year Leopoldo Todesca appears to have been the only name registered as working with Amati. In the year 1666 we have the name Giorgio Fraiser, age eighteen. In 1668 no names of workmen seem to have been registered. In 1680 the name of Girolamo Segher appears, age thirty-four, and Bartolommeo Cristofori, age thirteen. In 1681 another name occurs, namely Giuseppe Stanza, a Venetian, age eighteen. In the following year the only name entered was that of Girolamo Segher, age thirty-six. Niccolo Amati was the greatest maker in his illustrious family, and the finest of his instruments are second only to those of his great pupil, Antonio Stradivari. His early efforts have all the marks of genius upon them, and clearly show that he had imbibed much of the taste of his father Girolamo. He continued for some time to follow the traditional pattern of the instruments, with the label of Antonius and Hieronymus Amati, and produced many Violins of small size, of which a large number are still extant. He appears to have laboured assiduously during these early years, with the view of making himself thoroughly acquainted with every portion of his art. We find several instances in which he has changed the chief principles in construction (particularly such as relate to the arching and thicknesses), and thereby shown the intention which he had from the first of framing a new model entirely according to the dictates of his own fancy. The experienced eye may trace the successive steps taken in this direction by carefully examining the instruments dating from about 1645 downwards. Prior to this period, there is a peculiarly striking similarity in his work and model to that of his father, but after this date we can watch the gradual change of form and outline which culminated in the production of those exquisite works of the art of Violin-making known as "grand Amatis"--a name which designates the grand proportions of the instruments of this later date. It may be said that the maker gained his great reputation from these famous productions. They may be described as having an outline of extreme elegance, in the details of which the most artistic treatment is visible. The corners are drawn out to points of singular fineness, and this gives them an appearance of prominence which serves to throw beauty into the entire work. The model is raised somewhat towards the centre, dipping rather suddenly from the feet of the bridge towards the outer edge, and forming a slight groove where the purfling is reached, but not the exaggerated scoop which is commonly seen in the instruments of the many copyists. This portion of the design has formed the subject of considerable discussion among the learned in the Violin world, the debatable points being the appearance of this peculiarity and its acoustic effect. As regards the former question, the writer of these pages feels convinced that the apparent irregularity is in perfect harmony with the general outline of the great Amati's instrument; and it pleases the eye. From the acoustical point of view, it may be conceded that it does not tend to increase of power; but, on the other hand, probably, the sweetness of tone so common to the instruments of Niccolo Amati must be set to its credit; for, in proportion as the form is departed from, the sweetness is found to decrease. The sound-hole has all the character of those of the preceding Amati, together with increased boldness; in fact, it is a repetition of that of Girolamo, with this exception. The sides are a shade deeper than those of the brothers Amati. The scroll is exquisitely cut. Its outline is perhaps a trifle contracted, and thus is robbed of the vigour which it would otherwise possess. From this circumstance it differs from the general tenor of the body, which is certainly of broad conception. The maker would seem to have been aware of this defect, if we may judge from the difference of form given to his earlier scrolls, as compared with those of a later date, in which he seems to have attempted to secure increased boldness, as more in keeping with the character of the body of the instrument. It must be acknowledged, however, that these efforts did not carry him far enough. The surface of the scroll is usually inclined to flatness. The wood used by Niccolo Amati for his grand instruments is of splendid quality, both as regards acoustical requirements and beauty of appearance. The grain of some of his backs has a wave-like form of much beauty, others have markings of great regularity, giving to the instrument a highly finished appearance. The bellies are of a soft silken nature, and usually of even grain. A few of them are of singular beauty, their grain being of a mottled character, which, within its transparent coat of varnish, flashes light here and there with singular force. The colour of the varnish varies in point of depth; sometimes it is of a rich amber colour, at others reddish-brown, and in a few instances light golden-red. These, then, are the instruments which are so highly esteemed, and which form one of the chief links in the Violin family. The highest praise must be conceded to the originator of a design which combines extreme elegance with utility; and, simple as the result may appear, the successful construction of so graceful a whole must have been attended with rare ingenuity and persevering labour. Here, again, is evidence of the master mind, never resting, ever seeking to improve--evidence, too, that mere elaboration of work was not the sole aim of the Cremonese makers. They designed and created as they worked, and their success, which no succeeding age has aspired to rival, entitles them to rank with the chief artists of the world. On the form of the instrument known as the "grand Amati" Stradivari exerted all the power of his early years; and the fruits of his labours are, in point of finish, unsurpassed by any of his later works. Where Niccolo Amati failed, Stradivari conquered; and particularly is this victory to be seen in the scrolls of his instruments during the first period, which are masterpieces in themselves. How bold is the conception, how delicate the workmanship, what a marvel of perfection the sound-hole! But as these Violins are noticed under the head of "Stradivari," it is unnecessary to enter into details here. Beside Stradivari, many makers of less importance followed the "grand Amati" pattern, among whom may be mentioned Jacobs, of Amsterdam, who takes a prominent place as a copyist. The truthfulness of these copies, as regards the chief portions of the instrument, is singularly striking, so much so, indeed, as to cause them to be frequently mistaken for originals by those who are not deeply versed in the matter. The points of failure in these imitations may be cited as the scroll and sound-hole. The former lacks ease, and seems to defy its author to hide his nationality. The scroll has ever proved the most troublesome portion of the Violin to the imitator. It is here, if anywhere, that he must drop the mask and show his individuality, and this is remarkably the case in the instance above mentioned. A further difference between Amati and Jacobs lies in the circumstance that the latter invariably used a purfling of whalebone. Another copyist of Amati was Grancino. As the varnish which he used was of a different nature from that of his original, his power of imitation must be considered to be inferior to that of some others. Numerous German makers, whose names will be found under the "German School," were also liege subjects of Amati, and copied him with much exactness; so also, last, but not least, our own countrymen, Forster, Banks, and Samuel Gilkes. Lancetti, writing of Niccolo Amati in 1823, says: "Some masterpieces by him still remain in Italy, among which is the Violin dated 1668, in the collection of Count Cozio. It is in perfect preservation, and for workmanship, quality, and power of tone far surpasses the instruments of his predecessors." The same writer remarks that "Niccolo Amati put his own name to his instruments about 1640." It was upon a Violoncello of this make that Signor Piatti played when he first appeared at the concert of the Philharmonic Society, on June 24, 1844. The instrument had been presented to him by Liszt, and is now in the possession of the Rev. Canon Hudson. In an entry in the Cathedral Register at Cremona, the name of the wife of Niccolo Amati is given as Lucrezia Paliari. The meagreness of accounts of a documentary character in relation to the famous makers of Cremona naturally renders every contribution of the kind of some value. The following extract, taken from the State documents in connection with the Court of Modena, serves to indicate the degree of esteem in which the instruments of Niccolo Amati were held during his lifetime, in comparison with those of his contemporary and pupil, Francesco Ruggieri. Tomaso Antonio Vitali, the famous Violinist, who was the director of the Duke of Modena's Orchestra, addressed his patron to this effect: "Please your most Serene Highness, Tomaso Antonio Vitali, your highness's most humble servant, bought of Francesco Capilupi, through the agency of the Rev. Ignazio Paltrineri, for the price of twelve doublons, a Violin, and paid such price on account of its having the name inside of Niccolo Amati, a maker of great repute in his profession. The petitioner has since found that this Violin has been wrongly named, as underneath the label is the signature of Francesco Ruggieri detto il Pero, a maker of less credit, whose Violins do not scarcely attain the price of three doublons."[3] Vitali closes his letter with an appeal to the Duke for assistance to obtain redress. [Footnote 3: "Luigi F. Valdrighi Nomocheliurgografia," Modena, 1884.] AMATI, Girolamo, Cremona, born 1649, third son of Niccolo. The labels which I have seen in a Violin and a Tenor bear the name "Hieronymus Amati," and describe the maker as the son of Niccolo. He was born on February 26, 1649, married in 1678. In 1736 he, together with his family, removed to another parish, as shown by the original extract from the books of the Cathedral at Cremona, sent by Canon Manfredini to Lancetti. Girolamo Amati died in the year 1740. There appears to have been some doubt as to whether Girolamo Amati, the son of Niccolo, made Violins, according to Lancetti. He says, "Those seen with his label, dated between 1703 and 1723, were ascribed by some to Sneider, of Pavia, and by others to J. B. Rogeri, of Brescia." In a letter of Count Cozio di Salabue to Lancetti, dated January 3, 1823, he states that "in May, 1806, Signor Carlo Cozzoni gave an old Amati Violin for repair to the Brothers Mantegazza, dealers and restorers of musical instruments, in Milan, and upon their removing the belly they were pleased to discover, written at the base of the neck, 'Revisto e coretto da me Girolamo figlio di Niccolo Amati, Cremona, 1710.'" In some instances the instruments of this maker do not resemble those of Niccolo Amati, or indeed those of the Amati family. The sound-holes are straight, and the space between them is somewhat narrow. In others there is merit of a high order--the pattern is large, broad between the sound-holes, and very flat in model, and resembling the form of Stradivari rather than that of Amati. These differences are accounted for by the fact made known by Lancetti, that the tools and patterns of Niccolo Amati passed into the possession of Stradivari, and are therefore included with those now in the keeping of Count Cozio's descendant, the Marquis Dalla Valle. The varnish of Girolamo Amati shows signs of decadence; in some instances, however, we find it soft and transparent. The few which have this quality of varnish I am inclined to think were made in the time of Niccolo, since the instruments of a later date have a coating of varnish of an inferior kind. This maker--as with the Bergonzis--seems, therefore, to have been either ignorant of his parent's mode of making superior varnish, or was unable to obtain the same kind or quality of ingredients. With Girolamo closes the history of the family of the Amati as Violin-makers. Girolamo had a son, Niccolo Giuseppe, born in 1684, who removed with his father to another parish in 1736, as mentioned above, but he was not a maker of Violins. AMBROSI, Pietro, Rome and Brescia, about 1730. Petrus Ambrosi fecit Brixiae, 17-- Average merit. The workmanship resembles that of Balestrieri, as seen in the inferior instruments of that maker. ANSELMO, Pietro, Cremona, 1701. The instruments of this maker partake of the Ruggeri character. The varnish is rich in colour and of considerable body. Scarce. I have met with two excellent Violoncellos by this maker. Anselmo is said to have worked also in Venice. ANTONIAZZI, Gaetano, Cremona, 1860. The work is passable, but the form faulty. The sound-holes are not properly placed. ANTONIO OF BOLOGNA (Antonius Bononiensis). There is a Viol da Gamba by this maker at the Academy of Music, Bologna. ANTONIO, Ciciliano, an Italian maker of Viols. A specimen exists at the Academy of Bologna, without date. ASSALONE, Gasparo, Rome, 18th century. The model is high and the workmanship rough. Thin yellow varnish. BAGONI, Luigi (or Bajoni), Milan, from about 1840. Was living in 1876. BAGATELLA, Antonio, Padua, made both Violins and Violoncellos, a few of which have points of merit. He wrote a pamphlet in 1782 on a method of constructing Violins by means of a graduated perpendicular line similar to Wettengel's; but no benefit has been derived from it. BAGATELLA, Pietro, Padua, is mentioned as a maker who worked about 1760. BALESTRIERI, Tommaso, middle of the 18th century. Thomas Balestrieri Cremonensis Fecit Mantuae. Anno 17-- Said to have been a pupil of Stradivari, which is probable. The instruments of Balestrieri may be likened to those of Stradivari which were made during the last few years of his life, 1730-37. The form of both is similar, and the ruggedness observable in the latter instruments is found, but in a more marked degree, in those of Balestrieri. These remarks, however, must not be considered to suggest that comparison can fairly be made between these two makers in point of merit, but merely to point out a general rough resemblance in the character of their works. The absence of finish in the instruments of Tommaso Balestrieri is in a measure compensated by the presence of a style full of vigour. The wood which he used varies very much. A few Violins are handsome, but the majority are decidedly plain. The bellies were evidently selected with judgment, and have the necessary qualities for the production of good tone. The varnish seems to have been of two kinds, one resembling that of Guadagnini, the other softer and richer in colour. The tone may be described as large and very telling, and when the instrument has had much use there is a richness by no means common. It is singular that these instruments are more valued in Italy than they are either in England or France. BALESTRIERI, Pietro, Cremona, about 1725. BASSIANO, Rome. Lute-maker. 1666. BENEDETTI. _See_ Rinaldi. BELLOSIO, Anselmo, Venice, 18th century. About 1788. Similar to Santo Serafino in pattern, but the workmanship is inferior; neat purfling; rather opaque varnish. BENTE, Matteo, Brescia, latter part of the 16th century. M. Fetis mentions, in his "Biographie Universelle des Musiciens," a Lute by this maker, richly ornamented. BERGONZI, Carlo, Cremona, 1716-47. Anno 17-- Carlo Bergonzi, fece in Cremona. Pupil of Antonio Stradivari. That he was educated in Violin-making by the greatest master of his art is evidenced beyond doubt. In his instruments may be clearly traced the teachings of Stradivari. The model, the thicknesses, and the scroll, together with the general treatment, all agree in betokening that master's influence. Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu here stands in strong contrast with Bergonzi. All writers on the subject of Violins assume that Guarneri was instructed by Stradivari, a statement based upon no reasons (for none have ever been adduced), and apparently a mere repetition of some one's first guess or error. As before remarked, Carlo Bergonzi, in his work, and in the way in which he carries out his ideas, satisfactorily shows the source whence his early instructions were derived, and may be said to have inscribed the name of his great master, not in print, but in the entire body of every instrument which he made. This cannot be said of Giuseppe Guarneri. On the contrary, there is not a point throughout his work that can be said to bear any resemblance to the sign manual of Stradivari. As this interesting subject is considered at length in the notice of Giuseppe Guarneri, it is unnecessary to make further comment in this place. The instruments of Carlo Bergonzi are justly celebrated both for beauty of form and tone, and are rapidly gaining the appreciation of artistes and amateurs. Commercially, no instruments have risen more rapidly than those of this maker; their value has continuously increased within recent years, more particularly in England, where their merits were earliest acknowledged--a fact which certainly reflects much credit upon our connoisseurs. In France they had a good character years ago, and have been gaining rapidly upon their old reputation, and now our neighbours regard them with as much favour as we do. They possess tone of rare quality, are for the most part extremely handsome, and, last and most important of all, their massive construction has helped them, by fair usage and age, to become instruments of the first order. The model of Bergonzi's Violins is generally flat, and the outline of his early efforts is of the Stradivari type; but later in life, he, in common with other great Italian makers, marked out a pattern for himself from which to construct. The essential difference between these two forms lies in the angularity of the latter. It would be very difficult to describe accurately the several points of deviation unless the reader could handle the specimens for himself and have ocular demonstration; the upper portion from the curve of the centre bouts is increased, and, in consequence, the sound-holes are placed slightly lower than in the Stradivari model. Bergonzi was peculiar in this arrangement, and he seldom deviated from it. Again, increased breadth is given to the lower portion of the instrument, and in consequence the centre bouts are set at a greater angle than is customary. The sound-hole may be described as an adaptation of the characteristics of both Stradivari and Guarneri, inclining certainly more to those of the former. As a further peculiarity, it is to be noticed that the sound-holes are set nearer the edge than is the case in the instruments of either of the makers named. Taken as a whole, Bergonzi's design is rich in artistic feeling, and one which he succeeded in treating with the utmost skill. Carlo Bergonzi furnishes us with another example of the extensive research with which the great Cremonese makers pursued their art, and a refutation of the common assertion that these men worked and formed by accident rather than by judgment. The differences of the two makers mentioned above, as regards form, are certainly too wide to be explained away as a mere accident. It is further necessary to take into consideration the kind of tone belonging to these instruments respectively. If Bergonzi's instruments be compared with those of his master, Stradivari, or of Guarneri del Gesu, the appreciable difference to be found will amount to this, that in Bergonzi's instruments there is a just and exact combination of the qualities of both the other two makers named. Is it not, therefore, reasonable to conclude that Carlo Bergonzi was fully alive to the merits of both Stradivari and Guarneri, and deliberately set himself to construct a model that should embrace in a measure the chief characteristics of both of them? The scroll is deserving of particular attention. It is quite in keeping with the body of the instrument, and has been cut with a decision of purpose that could only have been possessed by a master. It is flatter than usual, if we trace it from the cheek towards the turn, and is strikingly bold. Here, again, is the portrait of the character of the maker. Although by a pupil of Antonio Stradivari, the scroll is thoroughly distinct from any known production of that maker--it lacks his fine finish and exact proportion; but, on the other hand, it has an originality about it which is quite refreshing. The prominent feature is the ear of the scroll, which being made to stand forth in bold relief, gives it a broad appearance when looked at from the front. The work of Bergonzi, as has been the case with many of his class, has been attributed to others. Many of his instruments are dubbed "Joseph Guarneri," a mistake in identification which arises chiefly from the form of the sound-hole at the upper and lower portions. There is little else that can be considered as bearing any resemblance whatever to the work of Guarneri, and even in this case the resemblance is very slight. Bergonzi's outline is totally different from that of Guarneri, and is so distinct and telling that it is sure to impress the eye of the experienced connoisseur when first seen. The varnish of Bergonzi is often fully as resplendent as that of Giuseppe Guarneri or Stradivari, and shows him to have been initiated in the mysteries of its manufacture. It is sometimes seen to be extremely thick, at other times but sparingly laid on; often of a deep, rich red colour, sometimes of a pale red, and again, of rich amber, so that the variation of colour to be met with in Bergonzi's Violins is considerable. We must concede that his method of varnishing was scarcely so painstaking as that of his fellow-workers, if we judge from the clots here and there, particularly on the deep-coloured instruments; but, nevertheless, now that age has toned down the varnish, the effect is good. Carlo Bergonzi lived next door to Stradivari, and I believe the house remained in the family until a few years since, when it was disposed of. Lancetti remarks: "From want of information, we have forgotten in the second volume"--referring to his "Biographical Dictionary," part of which was printed in 1820--"to include an estimable maker named Carlo Bergonzi, who was pupil of Stradivari, and fellow-workman with his sons. From the list of names and dates collected by Count Cozio, it appears that Carlo Bergonzi worked by himself from 1719 to 1746. He used generally very fine foreign wood, and a varnish the quality of that of his master." In the collection of Count Cozio di Salabue, there were two Violins by Bergonzi, dated 1731 and 1733, and a Violoncello, 1746. We have in this country two remarkable Violoncellos of this maker. The perfect and unique Double Bass which Vuillaume purchased of the executors of Luigi Tarisio is now in the possession of the family of the late Mr. J. M. Sears, of Boston, U.S. BERGONZI, Michel Angelo, Cremona, 1730-60. Michael Angelo Bergonzi Figlio di Carlo fece in Cremona l'Anno 17-- Son of Carlo. The pattern of his instruments is somewhat varied. Many are large, and others under-sized. The varnish is hard, and distinct from that associated with Cremonese instruments. [Illustration: _Plate VI_. J. B. GUADAGNINI. STORIONI. 1797.] BERGONZI, Niccolo, Cremona. Nicolaus Bergonzi Cremonensis faciebat Anno 17-- Son of the above. He made a great number of Violins of similar form to those of his father. The wood which he selected was of a close nature and hard appearance. The varnish is not equal to that of Carlo; it is thin and cold-looking. The workmanship is very good, being often highly finished, but yet wanting in character. The scroll is cramped, and scarcely of the Cremonese type. Lancetti mentions a Tenor by this maker, dated 1781. In the correspondence which passed between the grandson of Antonio Stradivari and the agents of Count Cozio (which is given in these pages), reference is made to some of the moulds of the great maker being in the keeping of ---- Bergonzi, they having been lent to him, the writer saying that he would obtain them and put them with the other patterns, which appears to have been done. These moulds were doubtless lent to Michel Angelo Bergonzi, and were used by Niccolo as well as his father, which accounts for the form of their instruments being varied. BERGONZI, Zosimo, Cremona. Brother of Niccolo. BERGONZI, Carlo, Cremona, about 1780-1820. Son of Michel Angelo. He made a few Violins, large Stradivarius form, sound-holes straight and inelegant. BERGONZI, Benedetto, Cremona, died in 1840. Tarisio learned little points of interest concerning Stradivari and his contemporaries from Benedetto Bergonzi. BERTASSI, Ambrogio, Piadena (near Cremona), about 1730. BERTOLOTTI, Gaspar di. _See_ Gaspar da Salo. BIANCHI, Niccolo, Genoa and Nice. Worked until about 1875. BIMBI, Bartolommeo, Siena, 1753-69. High-built, small pattern, orange-yellow varnish. BODIO, G. B., Venice, about 1832. Good workmanship; oil varnish, wide purfling. BORELLI, Andrea, Parma, about 1735. His instruments are little known; they resemble those of Giuseppe Guadagnini. BRENSIO, Girolamo (BRENSIUS, Hieronymus), Bologna. Reference has been made to the Viols of this maker in the first section of this work. BRESCIA, Da, Battista. A Pochette or Kit of this maker is at the Academy of Music, Bologna, signed "Baptista Bressano"; the period assigned to it is the end of the 15th century. BROSCHI, Carlo, Parma. Carlo Broschi in Parma, fecit 1732. BUSSETO, Giovanni M., Cremona, 1540-80. Maker of Viols. M. Fetis mentions, in his "Biographie des Musiciens," that Busseto derived his name from _Busseto_, a borough in the Duchy of Parma, where he was born. He also mentions a Viol of this maker, dated 1580, which was found at Milan in 1792. CALCAGNI, Bernardo, Genoa, about 1740. Bernardus Calcanius fecit Genuae anno 17-- Neat workmanship, small scroll, flat model, well-cut sound-holes, Stradivari pattern, orange-red varnish. CALVAROLA, Bartolommeo, Bergamo, about 1753. The work is neatly executed. These instruments are somewhat like those of Ruggeri in form. The scroll is weak, and ill-proportioned. CAMILLI, Camillo, Mantua, 17--. Camillus Camilli Fecit Mantua 17-- The form partakes of that of Stradivari; wood usually of excellent quality. The sound-hole is rather wide and short. The varnish resembles that of Landolfi, but is less brilliant. CAPPA, Gioffredo, Cremona, 1644-1717. IOFREDVS CAPPA FECIT SALVTIIS ANNO 16-- The dates of birth and death were ascertained by Dr. Orazio Roggiero, a lawyer of Saluzzo, whose researches set at rest many doubts and speculations as to this excellent maker and his period of activity. He was formerly held to be a pupil of the brothers Amati, but the assumption, having regard to the date of birth, is untenable. The greater number of his productions consist of works of high merit. Their likeness to the instruments of the Amati is in some instances peculiarly striking, but in others there is a marked dissimilarity. Particularly is this the case in the form of the sound-hole and scroll. The sound-hole is sometimes large, and quite out of keeping with the elegant outline of Amati. The points of difference may be summed up as follows: the sound-hole is larger, and more obliquely set in the instrument; the upper portion of the body has a more contracted appearance; the head, as is the case with most makers, differs most, and, in this instance, in no way resembles Amati. There are few specimens of Cappa that bear their original labels; most of them are counterfeit "Amatis," and hence the great confusion which has arisen concerning their parentage. Lancetti says: "Foreign professors and amateurs, and particularly the English--though connoisseurs of the good and the beautiful--in buying the instruments of Cappa thought they had acquired those of Amati, the outline and character of the varnish and the quality of the tone resembling in some measure the instruments of the Brothers Amati. It is, however, reserved to a few Italian connoisseurs to distinguish them. Those of large pattern, and even of medium size, that have not been injured by unskilful restorers, are scarce, and realise high prices." These remarks, suggested many years since, by so able a connoisseur as Count Cozio, possess a peculiar interest, and cannot fail to interest the reader. As Lancetti remarks, they are of two patterns, one larger than the other. The large one is, of course, the more valuable; it is flatter, and altogether better finished. The Violoncellos of Cappa are among the best of the second-class Italian instruments, and are well worthy the attention of the professor and amateur. The varnish is frequently of very rich quality, its colour resembling that of Amati in many instances. CARCASSI, Francesco, Florence, about 1758. CARCASSI, Lorenzo, about 1738. CARCASSI, Tomaso, worked in partnership with Lorenzo, but also alone, according to labels. There were several makers of this name. CASINI, Antonio, Modena. Antonius Casini, fecit Mutine anno 1680. CASTAGNERI, Andrea, Paris, about 1735. Andrea Castagneri, nell Palazzo di Saessone, Pariggi, 17-- This Italian maker appears to have settled in Paris. I have seen a Violin by Castagneri, date 1735; flat model, bold outline, and varnish of good quality. CASTELLANI, Pietro, Florence, died about 1820. CASTELLANI, Luigi, Florence, died 1884. CASTRO, Venice, 1680-1720. The wood is of good figure generally. The outline is defective; the middle bouts are too long to be proportionate. Sound-hole roughly worked. Varnish red, the quality of which is scarcely up to the Venetian standard. CATENAR, Enrico, Turin, about 1671. Henricus Catenar, fecit Taurini anno 167-- CELIONIATI, Gian Francesco, Turin, about 1734. Joannes Franciscus Celoniatus, fecit Taurini, anno 17-- Appears to have copied the form of Amati. Yellow varnish, good workmanship. CERIN, Marco Antonio, Venice, end of the eighteenth century. Signed himself as a pupil of Belosio. Marcus Antonius Cerin, alumnus Anselmi Belosii, fecit Venetiae, 17-- CERUTI, Giovanni Battista, Cremona, 1755-1817. Jo. Baptista Ceruti Cremonensis fecit Cremonae an 18-- Ceruti made a large number of Violins and Violoncellos of the Pattern of Amati. He appears to have been a prolific workman, his instruments numbering, it is said, about five hundred. His favourite model was the large Amati. Giovanni Ceruti succeeded to the business of Lorenzo Storioni in 1790, in the Via dei Coltellai, near the Piazza St. Domenico. CERUTI, Giuseppe, son of Giovanni, Cremona, 1787-1860. Was a maker and restorer of instruments. He is said to have exhibited, at the Paris and other exhibitions, Violins of good quality. He died at Mantua, in 1860. CERUTI, Enrico, son of Giuseppe, Cremona, born in 1808, died on October 30, 1883. Enrico Ceruti is the last of the long line of Cremonese Violin-makers; there is, in consequence, a peculiar interest attached to him. Independent of this, however, he is deserving of special notice from his having been the recipient of the traditional history attending the makers of Cremona, from Amati to Stradivari and Bergonzi, and from Bergonzi to Storioni and Ceruti. He was acquainted with Luigi Tarisio and with Vuillaume, to whom he gave many interesting particulars relative to the great makers of his native city. The instruments of Enrico Ceruti are much valued by Italian orchestral players. They are said to number about three hundred and sixty-five, among which are several Violoncellos. He exhibited at the London Exhibition of 1862, and at other exhibitions. The last Violin he made was shown at the Milan Exhibition, 1881. CRISTOFORI, Bartolommeo, Padua and Florence, 1667-1731. Apprenticed to Niccolo Amati. Is best known as the inventor of the "hammer system," and, therefore, the father of the modern pianoforte. Bow instruments of his make are rare, but authentic examples are in every way excellent. A fine Double Bass, dated 1715, is in the museum of the Musical Academy in Florence. Violoncellos and other instruments are known, and it is to be regretted that so few specimens are to be met with. CIRCAPA, Tommaso, Naples, about 1730. COCCO, Cristoforo, Venice, 1654. A Lute-maker. The Museum of the Paris Conservatoire Nationale de Musique contains a specimen of this make, which is described in M. Gustave Chouquet's catalogue of the collection. CONTRERAS, Joseph, Madrid, 1745-80. This being one of the few Spanish makers, his name is placed with the Italian, the number of the Spanish being insufficient for a separate list. The model of this maker is very good and the workmanship superior. He probably lived In Italy during his early life, the style being Italian. He was born in Granada, and was called the Spanish Stradivarius. He died about 1780, and is said to have been seventy years of age. CORDANO, Jacopo Filippo, Genoa, about 1774. Jacobus Philipus Cordanus, fecit Genuae anno sal. 1774. CORNA, Dalla, Brescia, early maker of Viols, about 1530. COSTA, Pietro Antonio dalla, Venice and Treviso. Petrus Antonius a Costa, fecit ad similitudinem illorum quos fecerunt Antonius & Hieronymus Fratres Amati Cremonenses Filii Andrae. Tarvisii, 1757. The label he used is curious. He copied the Brothers Amati with much skilfulness. The sound-holes are like those of the early instruments of the Amati; the varnish is golden in colour and excellent in quality; the scroll, as usual with all imitations, is a weak feature, but does not lack originality. DARDELLI, Pietro, Mantua, about 1500. Is described as a maker of Lutes and Viols. M. Fetis relates, in his "Biographie des Musiciens," that the painter Richard, of Lyons, possessed about the year 1807 a beautiful Lute by this maker, which was made for the Duchess of Mantua. The instrument is described as richly inlaid with ebony, ivory, and silver, dated 1497, and having the name "Padre Dardelli." On the belly the Mantuan arms are represented. M. Fetis was unable to discover any tidings of this interesting instrument after the death of Richard. Dardelli was a Franciscan monk at Mantua, and occupied himself with making musical instruments and inlaying them. Work of any kind executed under such circumstances is rarely found to be other than artistic. DESPINE, Alexander, Turin, nineteenth century. A very good maker; worked with Pressenda, whose labels his instruments sometimes bear. DIEFFOPRUCHAR, Magno, Venice, 1612. Lute-maker. An instrument of this make is at the Academy of Music, Bologna. M. Engel remarks,[4] "There can be no doubt that we have here the Italianised name of the German Magnus Tieffenbrucker, who lived in Italy." There appears to be a connection between these Venetian Lute-makers of this name and Duiffoprugcar of the sixteenth century. [Footnote 4: "Musical Myths and Facts," 1876.] DOMINICELLI, Ferrara, said to have worked about 1700. DUIFFOPRUGCAR, Gaspar, Bologna. This famous maker of Viols is said to have settled in Bologna in the early part of the sixteenth century. He appears to have obtained much renown as an inlayer of musical instruments, and it is stated that Francis I., upon the occasion of his visit to Italy in 1515, prevailed upon the Viol-maker to settle in France. The name of Duiffoprugcar has been made familiar to us, not so much on account of his merits as a Viol-maker, but almost wholly on account of his having been represented as the first maker of the Violin tuned in fifths, and the representation having been supported by the production of three Violins signed and dated 1511, 1517, 1519. I saw, about the year 1877, one of these, and was informed by the owner that the others were almost identical. The instrument bore distinct evidence of its being a modern French imitation, or rather an ingenious creation evolved from a myth, which in all probability had its origin in France. Duiffoprugcar was unquestionably an artist of a high order, but his abilities appear to have been chiefly directed to the art of wood-inlaying, rather than to the making of stringed instruments. He made Viols da Gamba, and he may have made smaller Viols, though I am not aware of any being in existence; but there is no evidence whatever to show that he made Violins. FARINATO, Paolo, Venice, 1695-1725. FICKER, Johann Christian, Cremona, middle of the 18th century. Although dating from Cremona, has nothing in common with Cremonese work. FICKER, Johann Gottlieb, Cremona, 1788. FIORILLO, Giovanni, Ferrara, 1780. The style is a mixture of German and Italian, the former preponderating. The sound-hole is an imitation of that of Stainer. His Violoncellos are among his best instruments. FIORINO, Fiorenzi, Bologna, about 1685. FREI, Hans, Bologna, 1597. Lute and Viol-maker. There is an instrument of this make at the Bologna Academy of Music. It is probable there was a family connection between Hans Frey, of Nuremberg, and this maker. GABRIELLI, Giovanni Battista, Florence, about the middle of the 18th century. Gio Battista Gabrielli, fece in Firenze, 17-- Johanes Baptista de Gabriellis, Florentinus fecit 1742. The instruments of Gabrielli are now becoming better known and appreciated. They bear evident marks of having been made with extreme care. The model, unfortunately, is often not all that could be desired, being too rounded. When this is not the case, the tone is excellent. The wood is mostly very handsome, and the sides and backs evenly marked. The varnish is wanting in mellowness, but is very transparent; its colour is chiefly yellow. The Tenors and Violoncellos are superior to the Violins. The scroll is neatly cut, but weak in design. The letters G. B. G. were often branded on the instruments of Gabrielli. GABRIELLI. Other makers of this name (Antonio, Bartolommeo, Cristoforo) appear to have dated from Florence. GAFFINO, Giuseppe, Paris, about 1755. Pupil of Castagneri. GAGLIANO, Alessandro, Naples, 1695-1730. Alexandrus Gagliano Alumnus Stradivari fecit Neapoli anno 1725. A pupil of Antonio Stradivari. The Gagliano family played no unimportant part in the art of Italian Violin-making. It commences with Alessandro, who imitated his master as regards the form which he gave to his instruments. Alessandro Gagliano, upon leaving the workshop of Stradivari, removed to Naples, a city which afforded him greater scope for the exercise of his talents than Cremona. With others, he felt that his chance of success was very small if he remained on ground occupied by the greatest luminaries of his art. His labours at Naples seem to have been so well rewarded that he caused his sons to follow his calling. There is evidence of their having enjoyed what may be termed a monopoly of the Violin manufacture in and around Naples, there being no record of another maker of importance in that locality at the same period. To these makers we are indebted for the Neapolitan School. Although in its productions we miss the lustrous varnish and handsome wood of Cremona, Naples has furnished us with many excellent instruments. The works of Alessandro Gagliano are mostly of large pattern and flat model. If we compare them with those of his master, the resemblance is not so great as might be expected, if it be remembered that they are copies, and not original works. The sound-holes are broader and more perpendicular than those of Stradivari. The scroll is diminutive, and the turn much contracted and of a somewhat mean appearance. The workmanship of the scroll is roughly executed, and points to the conclusion that Alessandro Gagliano was not gifted with the power of head-cutting. The character of Gagliano's Violins frequently reminds us of those by Stradivari made between 1725 and 1730.[5] [Footnote 5: Some of his Basses are of exceptionally fine workmanship.] The wood used for the backs was generally of a tough nature; the back and sides are often marked with a broad curl. The bellies are of wide and even grain, and very resonant. The varnish is quite distinct from that of Cremona; it is very transparent, and of various shades, chiefly yellow. GAGLIANO, Gennaro, Naples, 1720 to about 1758; finely finished. Januarius Gagliano, filius Alexandri fecit Neap, 1732-- Well-chosen wood, and excellent form. He sometimes wrote his name in pencil on the inside of the belly. GAGLIANO, Niccolo, Naples, son of Alessandro. Nicolaus Gagliano filius Alexandri fecit Neap 17-- His Violins and Violoncellos were made with care, and show that he possessed some amount of originality. They are not after the pattern of his father's instruments. They are narrower, and similar to those earlier works of Stradivari which come between the true "Amatese" and the long form. The varnish is of a deeper colour than that of Alessandro, and its quality is not inferior. The scroll is, in some cases, well formed, in others somewhat grotesque. The model is high. They are sometimes seen ornamented round the purfling with ebony, diamond and lozenge shape. GAGLIANO, Giovanni Battista, about 1730. GAGLIANO, Ferdinando, Naples, son of Niccolo. Ferdinandus Gagliano filius Nicolai fecit Neap 17-- His instruments are usually excellently made, and have a varnish of a warmer tint than is met with on the instruments of the Gagliano family. GAGLIANO, Giuseppe, Naples, 1780. Son of Ferdinando. GAGLIANO, Giovanni, GAGLIANO, Antonio, GAGLIANO, Raffaele, Naples. These makers bring the family down to a very recent date as residents in Naples. The merit belonging to them is of the slightest kind. Some of our English provincial makers have shown themselves superior. GALBUSERA, C. A., Milan, 1832-47. This maker appears to have attracted attention in Italy. In a little volume entitled "L'Italie Economique," 1847, he is mentioned as a maker who rivals Vuillaume. I am not acquainted with his instruments. Mention is made of his having made Violins without corners, and that he applied to the wood a preparation for the purpose of extracting the resinous particles from it. The adoption of such means of forcing on maturity makes it unlikely that he made instruments worthy of notice. GARANI, Michel Angelo, Bologna, 1681-1720. His Tenors in particular are well-made instruments. GARANI, Niccolo, Naples. Gagliano type of instrument, usually plain wood. GASPARO DA SALO (_see_ Salo). GATINARI, Francesco, Turin, about 1700. GENNARO, Giacomo. Worked at Cremona, in the shop of Niccolo Amati, about 1641. His name is mentioned in the parish registers in Cremona as being employed by Amati. GERONI, Domenico, Ostiano (Province of Brescia), dated 1817. GHIDINI, Carlo, Parma, about 1746. GIBERTINI, Antonio, Parma, about 1830. Stradivari model, excellent work, deep rose-coloured varnish. This maker was at times employed by Paganini to repair or regulate his Violins. GIORGI, Niccolo, Turin, about 1760. GOBETTI, Francesco (sometimes called _Gobit_), Venice, 1690-1715. Franciscus Gobetti fecit Venetiis 1705. This is one of the little-known makers, a fact which may be attributed to the practice, common some years ago, of removing the original label of an instrument and substituting another, bearing a name more likely from its familiarity to command attention. When we see such Violins bearing the stamp of genius upon them, and reflecting much credit on the maker, the lovers of the instrument cannot but regret that the author should have been eclipsed, and deprived of his just praise. Had the name of Gobetti been permitted to associate itself with the instruments into which it was originally placed, they would have been as highly valued as any belonging to the Venetian school, with the single exception of Domenico Montagnana. The admirers of that finished maker, Santo Serafino, may perhaps dispute the justice of this observation; but, having carefully weighed the merits of both Serafino and Gobetti, I have no hesitation in awarding to the latter the foremost place. Gobetti's style is superior, being more Cremonese than Venetian; and further, his model is preferable. Gobetti has been considered to have been a pupil of Antonio Stradivari, possibly with some reason, for his instruments bear a similarity to the early works of the great master. The instruments of this maker, like those of many others of his class, have passed for the works of Ruggeri, and sometimes of Amati. There is a slight likeness about the sound-hole to the work of Francesco Ruggeri; but to the skilled in such matters, no feature interchangeable with Amati can be detected. The workmanship is uniformly neat in execution; the scroll is the least successful part, being weak in character as compared with the body. The varnish is equal to any belonging to the Venetian school, and its beauty is second only to that of Cremona; its colour is generally a pale red, of considerable transparency. The wood is most handsome. These Venetians were not a little happy in selecting beautiful wood; in fact, it is scarcely possible to discover a single Venetian instrument the wood of which is plain. The tone of Gobetti's work is round, without great power; but the quality is singularly sweet. GOFRILLER, Matteo, Venice, about 1700-1735. The workmanship is often good, and the wood of fine quality. The style is somewhat different from that we are accustomed to associate with Italy. The tone and character of the varnish are generally excellent. GOFRILLER, Francesco, Venice. Brother of the above, with whom he worked. GRAGNANI, Antonio, Leghorn. Antonius Gragnani, fecit Liburni, anno 1780. Usually branded his initials below the tail-pin. Varnish somewhat hard; ordinary wood. The tone is often of good quality. [Illustration: _Plate VII_. STRADIVARI. 1716. (LE MESSIE.) STRADIVARI. 1709. (LA PUCELLE.) STRADIVARI. 1686. STRDIVARI. 1710. GIUSEPPE GUARNERI. 1735. GIUSEPPE GUARNERI. Violon du Diable. NICCOLO AMATI.] GRANCINO, Paolo, Milan, 1665-92. Pupil of Niccolo Amati. The Grancino family, as makers of Violins, commence with this maker, and occupy a similar position, as followers of the Amati pattern, to that of the Gagliani as imitators of Stradivari. Paolo Grancino was pupil of Niccolo Amati. His early works bear the stamp of the mere copyist; later on the borrowed plumes are less apparent, the dictates of his own fancy are discoverable, but never to such an extent as to permit him to be classed with Stradivari, Bergonzi, and Guarneri, as striking out into entirely untrodden paths. His Violoncellos are particularly fine instruments; his Tenors also are worthy of notice. The wood he used was varied, but is, for the most part, plain. It is curious to observe how various centres of Violin-making ran upon different qualities of wood. In Venice the handsomest wood was used, in Milan and Naples the plainest. The commercial importance of Venice would, of course, draw to it the largest selection of wood, and thus permit the second and third rate maker to use it, and at the same rate, probably, as a less handsome material would cost in cities farther removed. The scroll of Paolo Grancino has a very decisive character; it is quite distinct from that of the Amati. From the ear of the scroll the turn is rapidly made, and has an elongated appearance. GRANCINO, Giovanni, Milan, 1694-1720. Giovan Grancino in Contrada larga di Milano al segno della Corona 16-- Son of Paolo. The workmanship is smooth, and the form good. The material of his instruments is of a better nature than that used by his father. The model is slightly flatter. The tone is powerful. Varnish mostly yellow. GRANCINO, Giovanni Battista, Milan, 1690. Son of Giovanni mentioned above. Similar characteristics. GRANCINO, Francesco. Son of Giovanni Battista. Here we have the same falling off as in the case of the Gagliani, a family beginning with artists, and ending with common workmen. GRULLI, Pietro, Cremona. Contemporary. GUADAGNINI, Lorenzo, Cremona, 1695 to about 1740. Laurentius Guadagnini Cremonae Alumnus Stradivari fecit Anno Domini 17-- No matter to which of the Guadagnini the instrument may owe its origin, if it bears the name, importance is attached to it, often without due regard to the merits of the particular specimen. The later members of the family have thus received attention measured by the excellence of the work of their forefathers. That this should be so, to a certain extent, can scarcely excite surprise, nor is it singular in the Italian branch of the art. The great makers of the Guadagnini family were Lorenzo and Giovanni Battista. The former has been considered the chief maker; but if the merits of each be duly weighed, they will be found to be nearly equal. It is probable that Lorenzo has been looked upon as the principal maker from the association of his name with that of Antonio Stradivari, a fact which, it must be granted, lends to it a certain degree of importance. The instruments of Lorenzo are exceedingly bold in design, and differ in this respect from those of Giovanni Battista, which retain much of the delicate form of Stradivari. Lorenzo frequently changed the form of his sound-hole, giving it the pointed character of Giuseppe Guarneri in some instances, and in others retaining the type of sound-hole perfected by his master. The model is inclined to flatness, the declivity being of the gentlest kind: the breadth of the design commands admiration. The scroll is certainly not an imitation of that of Stradivari; it has considerable originality, and is more attractive on that account than for its beauty. The varnish is not so brilliant as that of Giovanni Battista, but possesses a mellowness foreign to the other members of the family. The tone is powerful, tempered with a rich quality. Lorenzo Guadagnini was born at Piacenza, and upon leaving the workshop of his master returned to his native town, where he remained until about the year 1695, at which period he is said to have removed to Milan. In the last mentioned city he continued to work until about the year 1740.[6] [Footnote 6: This and other information relative to the Guadagnini family I have obtained from its descendants at Turin.] GUADAGNINI, Giovanni Battista, Piacenza, 1711-86. Joannes Baptista Guadagnini Placentinus fecit Mediolani 17-- Joannes Baptista Guadagnini Cremonensis fecit Taurini 1776. Son of Lorenzo Guadagnini. He was born, according to Count Cozio di Salabue, at Cremona, and Lancetti states that he worked with his father in Milan. Later he worked at Piacenza, then at Parma, where he became instrument-maker to the Duke. Upon the pensions to the artists of the Duke's Court being discontinued in 1772, he went to Turin, where he died.[7] Count Cozio di Salabue communicated to Lancetti the following particulars relative to Giovanni Battista Guadagnini. He says: "He imitated Stradivari, but avoided close imitation of all detail, and prided himself on not being a mere copyist." He is said to have excited the jealousy of other makers, which caused him to move so frequently, but most likely he offended chiefly with his hasty temper. Many of his instruments made in Turin between 1773 and 1776 have wood of the handsomest kind. Count Cozio ordered from him several instruments which he added to his collection, among them two Tenors and two Violoncellos. The interest Count Cozio manifested with regard to this maker is shown in his having obtained from the parish registers the date of his birth and death. He states that he was born in Cremona in 1711, and died in Turin, September 18, 1786. This last-named date is in conformity with that of 1785, given to me by the representatives of the family at Turin, as the last year in which he made instruments. Lorenzo has been regarded as the only pupil of Stradivari in the Guadagnini family; but if their respective works be closely examined, it will be found that those of Giovanni Battista more closely resemble the instruments of Stradivari than even those of Lorenzo, which is suggestive of his having, in some way, been brought early under the great master's influence.[8] It is singular that his early labels contain no reference to Cremona, whilst on the late ones there is mention of the famous town, which evidences the correctness of the statement of Count Cozio relative to his birthplace. It is quite evident that he considered the model of Stradivari as that to be followed, and he does not appear to have changed his views on this point at any time, all his works being in accordance with the teachings of the great master. [Footnote 7: The present representative of the family mentions Piacenza as the place of birth.] [Footnote 8: The labels in many of the later instruments dating from Turin contain the words "alumnus Antoni Stradivari."] Giovanni Battista was particularly happy in the selection of his wood, it being generally of the handsomest kind. The backs of his instruments are mostly found to be divided, the markings of the wood being very regular; the bellies are of wood well chosen for tone, the varnish very transparent and of a brilliant colour. The scroll may be described as a rough imitation of that of Stradivari, and to partake generally of the character of the Stradivarian scroll from the date of 1728. The English possess some of the finest specimens of this maker, and were probably the first to recognise their sterling merits. In the correspondence which passed between Count Cozio di Salabue and Vincenzo Lancetti, in the year 1823, the Count says: "The instruments of G. B. Guadagnini are highly esteemed by connoisseurs and professional men in Holland and Germany." GUADAGNINI, Gaetano, Turin. Son of Giovanni Battista. Was both a maker and a repairer of Violins; it was, however, in the latter capacity that his abilities were mainly exercised. GUADAGNINI, Giuseppe. Second son of Giovanni Battista. Worked with his father for some time at Turin. He ultimately went to Lombardy, and settled in Pavia, where he made a great number of instruments. The work and character belonging to these instruments are varied. The model is that of Stradivari. In some instances the sound-holes partake of the character of Giuseppe Guarneri. The varnish is inferior to that of his predecessors, and the wood often hard and plain. Some of his Violins bear the labels of his father, and were doubtless made when they were living together. GUADAGNINI, Carlo, Turin. Son of Gaetano Guadagnini. This maker is chiefly known as a maker of Guitars. Carlo left three sons, Gaetano, Giuseppe, and Felice. These are said to have been all makers of Violins, though they appear to have accomplished but little in that direction, with the exception of Felice. GUADAGNINI, Felice (or Felix), about 1835, Turin. Son of Carlo. Excellent work, varnish rather hard, well-cut scroll. GUADAGNINI, Antonio. Son of Gaetano and grandson of Carlo, born 1831, died 1881. Worked with much diligence, and produced a great number of instruments. His sons Francesco and Giuseppe, the representatives of a long line of Italian Violin-makers, learned at Turin the art so long associated with the family name, with a view to their following in the footsteps of their father Antonio. GUARNERI, Andrea, Cremona, born about 1626, died 1698. Andreas Guarnerius fecit Cremonae sub titulo Sanctae Teresiae 16-- The name of "Guarnerius" is probably known to every possessor of a Violin throughout the world. The familiar style is attached to scores of copies and non-copies every week, and despatched to the four quarters of the globe. Little did Andrea imagine that he was destined to be the means of lifting his patronymic of Guarneri to such a giddy height! Andrea Guarneri, like Andrea Amati, was the pioneer of the family: but for his influence we might never have had the extraordinary works of his nephew, Giuseppe. How full of interest would the smallest events of Andrea's workshop life prove if we could only ascertain them! We know that in early years he was working in the shop of Niccolo Amati. With what delight would any record, or even anecdote, of those golden days in the history of the Violin be received by the lovers of the instrument! The bare idea that these men were living in daily close converse is sufficient to awaken interest of a lively nature in the mind of a lover of Fiddles. Unhappily, however, no Boswell was at hand to dot down events, of small value when passing, but of great consequence to after-time. The want of that direct biographical information which is handed down to us from recorded personal knowledge leads to the opening of many a mouldy, worm-eaten, and half-forgotten parish register, wherein we read, in language stiff and statutory, accounts of departed parishioners having duly performed and executed divers acts and deeds. These entries often shed much unexpected light on subjects previously dark or obscured. The pages of the Cremonese parish register, to which allusion has been made in the notices of the members of the Amati family, have served this purpose in some measure. From the same source we have a few interesting facts concerning Andrea Guarneri. It appears that Niccolo Amati entered, in the year 1641, the age of his pupil Andrea Guarneri in the parish rate-book as being fifteen years, thus supplying the hitherto unknown date of his birth. Again we learn that Andrea Guarneri does not appear to have been with Niccolo Amati in 1646, but was so in the year 1653, the register showing that he was at that date married. There is no further reference to his connection with Niccolo Amati after the year 1653. Andrea was married, December 31, 1652, and had seven children. Two of his sons, namely Pietro Giovanni and Giuseppe Giovan Battista, became Violin-makers. Andrea died on December 7, 1698, and we learn from the register that he was buried on the following day near the remains of his wife, in the Church of St. Domenico, in the same chapel where the body of Antonio Stradivari was laid forty years later. Andrea Guarneri for some years worked upon the model of his master, though he afterwards changed the character of the sound-hole.[9] At the same time the form of the instrument became flatter, and the scroll showed signs of originality. The varnish is much varied, but is generally of a light orange colour of beautiful hue; it sometimes has considerable body, but when so, lacks the transparency of light-coloured varnishes. The Violoncellos are of two sizes. The wood in the Violoncellos is often very plain, but possesses singular tone-producing qualities. The Violins of this maker are among his finest efforts; the workmanship is excellent, but has not the fine finish of Amati. [Footnote 9: Lancetti, in his MS., mentions 1670 as about the period of his change of style.] GUARNERI, Giuseppe Giovan Battista, second son of Andrea, born November 25, 1666. Joseph Guarnerius filius Andreae fecit Cremonae sub titulo S. Teresiae 16-- This maker possessed a greater amount of originality than Andrea. His earliest works evidence that power of thinking for himself which, later, led him to construct instruments entirely distinct from those produced by his father. The outline is particularly striking. The waist of the instrument is narrowed, rapidly widening, however, from the centre. The result is a curve of much elegance, one of the points which Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu appears to have admired, as he adopted and perfected it. It is here, more particularly, that a resemblance between this maker and his famous kinsman is to be traced. There are also other features which will furnish matter for comment in their proper place. To return to the form given to the instruments of Guarneri, the son of Andrea: the sound-hole has a singular combination of the Amati and the Guarneri in its conception. We have here a reappearance of the pointed form which originated with the grand old Brescian master, Gasparo da Salo, and which was left by him to be revived and perfected by his followers. Andrea's son, in adopting this long-neglected form, showed much judgment. It must be admitted that he improved upon it, and left his cousin an easy task in completing and perfecting it. The method of this maker with regard to the setting of the sound-holes in his instruments is peculiar. In his plan they are set in a lower position than is customary. Carlo Bergonzi followed him in this particular, and also in placing the hole a trifle nearer the edge of the instrument than is seen in most instruments. How interesting is it to observe the salient points wherein each maker seems to have adopted some isolated feature from a predecessor! The varnish is of the richest description, and in some instances has been so plentifully used as to cause it to clot in some places; nevertheless, its rare qualities are never deadened. He made Violins, Tenors, and Violoncellos, the latter being very scarce. The wood used in his Violins and Tenors varies, but may be pronounced as generally handsome; that of his Violoncellos is, on the contrary, chiefly plain, and the workmanship somewhat careless, but the tone is always fine in quality. Guarneri, Joseph, son of Andrea, according to the parish register, was married on January 4, 1690, and had six children. GUARNERI, Pietro Giovanni, Cremona and Mantua, son of Andrea, born February 18, 1655. Petrus Guarnerius Cremonensis fecit Mantuae sub-tit. Sanctae Teresiae 16-- In this maker, again, there is much originality, his work, together with his model, differing entirely from that of his brother, and in outline from that of his father Andrea. There is increased breadth between the sound-holes; the sound-hole is rounded and more perpendicular; the middle bouts are more contracted, and the model is more raised. The scroll abounds in individuality of design. The ear is brought out with much effect; the purfling is splendidly executed, the corners being worked up to that extreme point of delicacy which is characteristic of the works of Niccolo Amati. The purfling is embedded after the manner of Amati in his "grand" instruments, but to a greater extent. The varnish is superb; its quality is of the richest description, and its transparency unsurpassed. Its colour varies; it is sometimes of a golden tint, sometimes of a pale red, on which the light plays with delightful variety. Pietro Guarneri used some of the finest wood. The bellies are invariably wide in grain and very even. The parish register supplies the information that Pietro was married in the year 1677. He appears to have left Cremona for Mantua soon after the year 1698. He visited Cremona about the period when his father died; in which year he appears to have acted as god-father at the christening of his brother Joseph's son Bartolommeo. Pietro returned to Mantua, and later went to Venice, where he is said to have died at an advanced age. GUARNERI, Pietro, Mantua, born 1695. Son of Giuseppe filius Andrea. He followed to some extent the form of the instruments of his uncle Pietro, from whom, while in Mantua, he probably learnt his art. The work is very good, and his productions are well worthy of the Guarnerian name. The varnish is rich, but not so transparent nor so well laid on as to come up to the full standard. The scroll is rather weak. GUARNERI, Giuseppe, Cremona. Joseph Guarnerius fecit Cremone Anno 17-- IHS Better known as Giuseppe del Gesu, his labels having the cypher IHS upon them. It is not known why he adopted this monogram, which is that of the Jesuits. It is possible that he belonged to a fraternity in Cremona, common at that period among Italian tradesmen, who banded themselves together in various societies bearing religious titles. This famous maker of Violins was born at Cremona in the year 1687, and died in or about 1745. The house of Giuseppe Guarneri is said to have been No. 5, Piazza S. Domenico, now called Piazza Roma. An extract from the register proves that Giuseppe Antonio Guarneri, legitimate son of Giovanni Battista Guarneri and Angela Maria Locadelli, was born at Cremona on June 8, 1683, and was baptized on the 11th of the same month, in the parish of San Donato, at the chapel-of-ease of the cathedral. This extract which was supposed to refer to the subject of this notice relates to a child who died in infancy, and it is now satisfactorily settled that Joseph del Gesu first saw the light on October 16, 1687. The date of death is merely conjectural, and unsupported by definite evidence. The father of Guarneri del Gesu, namely Gio. Battista, was the son of Bernardo, a cousin of Andrea Guarneri. He does not appear to have had any knowledge of the manufacture of stringed instruments, and was thus an exception to the majority of a family which numbered many prominent makers within it. It has been asserted on all sides that Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu was a pupil of Antonio Stradivari, but in every case this statement has been made without a shadow of proof, either from recorded fact or analogy. That this bare assertion should have so long remained unchallenged is a matter of some surprise to the writer of these pages, who fails to see anything in common between the two makers, with the exception of the varnish, and perhaps the high finish, as apparent in the works of the second epoch of Guarneri. The following remarks on this point are the result of the most careful consideration of the subject, and may serve to assist the reader in forming an opinion. Had Giuseppe Guarneri received his early instructions from Stradivari, should we not expect his instruments to bear the character of the master in some slight degree? The most diligent student will, however, fail to discover an early work of Guarneri bearing any likeness whatever to the work of Stradivari. Among the instruments of the second epoch may be found a few that show some gleam of the desired similarity in respect of high finish; but it would be to the earliest efforts of Guarneri that we should turn in our endeavour to discover the source of his first instructions. The faint gleam of similarity, then, attaching to the instruments of the second epoch, be it understood, is in no way sufficient to demonstrate that Guarneri was a pupil of Stradivari. Upon turning to other makers, what will be the result if we judge them by the criterion above mentioned? Bergonzi, Guadagnini, Gagliano, and others, whose names it is unnecessary to mention, leave upon their earliest efforts the indelible stamp of the master who first instructed them. To suppose that Guarneri del Gesu formed the single exception to the likeness between the work of master and pupil, is scarcely sufficient to satisfy the inquiry. There are three essential points of difference between Guarneri and Stradivari. The first is the outline of the work, which, as the mere tyro must at once observe, is totally different in their respective instruments. The second is the sound-hole, in which, again, the two do not approach one another; that of Guarneri is long, and a modified form of that of Gasparo da Salo. The third is the scroll, in which Guarneri is as distinct from Stradivari as it is possible to be. It may be asked, then, if not from Stradivari, from whom did Guarneri receive instruction?[10] To disagree with what is popularly accepted, and yet to withhold one's own counter-theory, may perhaps tend to weaken one's case. There can be but one method to be pursued if, in the absence of any historical data, we set about the investigation of the question, viz., that of analogy. Starting upon this ground, the first step to be taken is to endeavour to discover the maker whose work and style bear some degree of similarity to those of Giuseppe del Gesu. If we carefully review the works of the Cremonese makers, it will be found that Giuseppe Guarneri, son of Andrea, and a relative of Guarneri del Gesu, is the only maker in whose productions we can find the strong similarity needed. Analogy, therefore, would point to him as the instructor of his kinsman. Giuseppe Guarneri, son of Andrea, was del Gesu's senior by many years, and it is far more reasonable to conclude that it was in his workshop that del Gesu was first instructed, than that he was the pupil of a maker whose work he never copied, and whose style has nothing in common with his own. Enough has been said on this question to enable the reader to judge for himself, and this may the more readily be conceded when it is also admitted that, after all, it is of little importance to determine where the early training of this kingly maker was passed, as he so soon displayed that rare originality which separated him from his brethren for ever. [Footnote 10: The _evidence_--if indeed it is to be characterised as such--upon which it has been recently asserted that del Gesu was a pupil of Andreas Gisalberti is so trivial and altogether unconvincing that it seems unsuitable for discussion or analysis in a serious work of reference.--EDITORS.] [Illustration: _Plate VIII_. GIUSEPPE GUARNERI. Date 1742. (LATE H. B. HEATH, ESQ.) ANTONIO STRADIVARI. Date 1711. (LATE R. D. HAWLEY, ESQ.) ANTONIO STRADIVARI. Date 1703. (J. S. COOKE, ESQ.)] We will now inquire into the character of Guarneri del Gesu's model. In forming this, he seems to have turned to Gasparo da Salo as the maker whose lead he wished to follow; and if each point be critically considered, an impression is left that, after well weighing the merits and demerits of Gasparo's model, he resolved to commence where Gasparo ceased, and carry out the plan left incomplete by the great Brescian maker. To commence with that all-important element the sound-hole, it will be seen that Guarneri del Gesu retained its pointed form. Next comes the outline of the body, where, again, there is much affinity to the type of Gasparo da Salo, particularly in the middle bouts. Lastly, the quality of wood selected for the bellies is in both makers similar. In continuing the path trodden by Gasparo, Guarneri proved himself an artist possessed of no little discernment. His chief desire was evidently to make instruments capable of producing a quality of tone hitherto unknown, and that he succeeded is universally acknowledged. Workmanship, as evidenced by the instruments of his first and last epoch, was with him a purely secondary consideration. In the second epoch, his work shows him to have been not unmindful of it. That he brought much judgment to bear upon his work, the vast number of instruments that he has left and the great variety of their construction are sufficient to prove. The extent of his researches is surprising, and there is no ground for the assertion frequently made that he worked without plan or reason. The idea that such a maker as Guarneri groped in the dark savours of the ridiculous; moreover, there is direct evidence, on the contrary, of his marvellous fertility of design. At one period his instruments are extremely flat, without any perceptible rise; at another, the form is raised in a marked manner and the purfling sunk into a groove; a parallel of this type of instrument is to be found in the works of Pietro Guarneri and Montagnana. At one time his sound-holes were cut nearly perpendicularly (a freak which, by the way, has some show of reason, for though it sacrifices beauty, it also prevents the breaking up of the fibres), at another shortened and slanting, and some, again, are occasionally seen immoderately long. These hastily-marshalled instances are quite sufficient to show the extent of his experiments, and the many resources which he adopted in order to produce exceptional qualities of tone. In order that the reader may better understand the subject, before going farther into the peculiar features belonging to the instruments of Guarneri, we will classify his work. M. Fetis, doubtless under the guidance of M. Vuillaume, has divided the career of Guarneri into three periods--an excellent arrangement, and one that cannot be improved upon. It only remains to point out certain peculiarities omitted in the description of these three stages which M. Fetis gives us. In the first epoch we find instruments of various patterns, the character of the sound-holes being very changeable. At one time there is a strange mixture of grace and boldness; at another the whole is singularly deformed, and the purfling roughly executed, as though the maker had no time to finish his work properly. It seems as if he had hastily finished off a set of Violins that he had already tested, eager to lay the stocks for another fresh venture. The second epoch has given us some of the finest specimens of the art of Violin-making. In these culminate the most exquisite finish, a thoroughly artistic and original form, and the most handsome material. In some cases the lustre of the wood of the backs, set in its casing of deep amber, that unrivalled varnish, may be likened to the effect produced by the setting summer sun on cloud and wave. The reader may pardon a somewhat novel application of the loveliest description of the glow of evening to be found in the compass of the English language, which paints the heavens' colours as-- "Melted to one vast iris of the west, Where the day joins the past eternity. ... All its hues, From the rich sunset to the rising star, Their magical variety diffuse. And now they change; a paler shadow strews Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till--'tis gone--and all is grey." 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. Fetis 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. [Footnote 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 _bona 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 Gesu" 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 Bononiae, anno 1715," ornamented with a beautiful head artistically carved, representing a blindfolded Cupid. GUILLAMI, Spanish family of Violin-makers, about 1680-1780. HARTON, Michael, Padua, 1600. Lute-maker. KERLINO, Joan, 1449. Maker of Viols. Numerous instruments of the Violin shape have been attributed to this maker, particularly those of quaint appearance, but it is doubtful whether he made any instruments but those of the Viol type. LAGETTO, Luigi, Paris, about 1753. LANDOLFI, Carlo Ferdinando, Milan, 1750. Carolus Ferdinandus Landulphus, fecit Mediolani in Via S. Margaritae anno 17-- Though he belonged to the latest of the Italian makers, his merits were of no ordinary kind. His instruments vary very much, and hence, probably, a confusion has arisen as to there being two makers of this name, which is not the case. Those instruments which have the bright red varnish are certainly the best. The varnish is very transparent, and, the wood being strikingly handsome, the effect is most pleasing. The pattern is not a copy of Guarneri, as often stated, but thoroughly original. His sound-hole cannot be considered an effective one, and is not in keeping with the work. The outer edge is generally grooved. The scroll is weak. His Violoncellos are mostly of small size. Some of this maker's instruments are very unfinished, many not being purfled, and having only a single coat of varnish. LANZA, Antonio Maria, 1674. Copied the Brescian makers. LAVAZZA, Santino, Milan, about 1700. Santino Lavazza fece in Milano in Contrada larga 17-- LAVAZZA, Antonio, Milan. Lavazza Antonio Maria fece in Milano in Contrada larga 17-- LINAROLLI, Venturo, Venice, 1520. A maker of Viols. LOLY, Jacopo, Naples, 17th century. Of the Grancino type. Scroll diminutive. Yellow varnish. Material very hard. Flat model. He made a few large tenors. MAGGINI, Giovanni Paolo, Brescia, 1590. Gio Paolo Maggini in Brescia. This famous maker followed Gasparo da Salo, and was his pupil. It is surmised that he may have died of the plague in or about the year 1632. No Italian maker is more frequently mistaken than Maggini. Any instrument having ornamentations on the back in the shape of purfled scroll-work is at once said to be by Paolo Maggini. Barak Norman, the old English maker, thus comes in for a large share of Maggini's patronage, as also a vast number of early German makers, who adopted similar devices; to the real connoisseur, however, there is no difficulty in distinguishing the work. A more pardonable error is the confusion of Gasparo da Salo and Maggini, which is of frequent occurrence. The Double Basses of these two makers have much in common to the eye of the not deeply versed examiner. Maggini, however, was not so successful as his compeer in the selection of the _form_ of his instruments. In them we miss the harmony of outline belonging to those of Gasparo, particularly as relates to his Double Basses. Gasparo's Violins are less harmonious in design, and evince his unsettled views as to the form they should take; a perfectly natural circumstance when the infantile state of the Violin in his day is considered. The outline of Maggini is broad, but lacks the classic symmetry of the rare old Brescian maker. The form is flat, and the means which he adopted in order to obtain a full and telling tone were very complete. The sides are frequently shallow, and in accordance with the outline. With others who followed him, he evidently recognised the necessity of reducing the height of the sides in proportion to the dimensions of the instrument. The sound-hole is long and pointed, and admirably set in the instrument. The scroll is primitive, but boldly cut, and clearly marks an onward step from the somewhat crude production of Gasparo, the back of which is not grooved, or but slightly. Maggini's varnish is of brown or yellow colour, and of good quality. The instruments covered with the brown varnish are often without any device on their backs, and seldom have two rows of purfling. De Beriot, the famous Belgian Violinist, used one of Maggini's Violins, and, in consequence, their value was much increased.[12] [Footnote 12: The genuine labels are undated, as in the case of his master, Gasparo da Salo.] MALER, Laux, Bologna, about 1450. Maker of Lutes. Maler appears to have been regarded by Lutinists as the Stradivari of Lutes. Thomas Mace informs us in his "Musick's Monument," 1676, they were sold for as much as one hundred pounds each, though often "pittiful, old, batter'd, crack'd things." He tells us he has "often seen Lutes of three or four pounds price far more illustrious and taking to a common eye." History repeats itself at every turn. The uneducated eye of to-day is equally apt to regard a Mirecourt or Bavarian copy with as much favour as a genuine Cremona. Mace proceeds to instruct the "common eye." "First, know that an old Lute is better than a new one." Thus also with Viols: "We chiefly value old instruments before new; for by experience they are found to be far the best." "The pores of the wood have a more and free liberty to move, stir, or secretly vibrate, by which means the air--which is the life of all things, both animate and inanimate--has a more free and easie recourse to pass and repass." This explanation accounts, in part at least, for the superiority of old over new instruments, and in language delightfully quaint and simple. MANTEGAZZA, Pietro Giovanni, Milan. Pietro Giov Fratelli Mantegazza nella Contrada di Santa Margarita in Milano al Segno dell' Angelo 17-- Petrus Joes. Fratresq Mantegatia Mediolani in Via S. Margarite anno 1760. Petrus Joannes Mantegatia, fecit Mediolani in Via S. Margaritae 1784. Vincenzo Lancetti states that "about 1800 the Brothers Mantegazza were restorers of instruments, and were often entrusted by French and Italian artistes to lengthen the necks of their Violins after the Paris fashion, an example which was followed by amateurs and professors all over North Italy." This extract shows that the short necks were dispensed with in Paris towards the close of the last century, and doubtless Viotti was the chief instigator with regard to the change. The family of Mantegazza, as Violin-makers, date back to about the middle of the eighteenth century. They appear to have made many Tenors. The workmanship is good, and also the modelling of the later-dated instruments. The older ones are rather high, but the varnish is brilliant. The wood is somewhat hard. Count Cozio was a patron of the Brothers Mantegazza, and he appears to have increased his knowledge of Italian Violins from information acquired from them. MARATTI, Verona, about 1700. MARCHETTI, Enrico, Turin, contemporary. MARIANI, Antonio, Pesaro, from about 1580 to 1619. Long middle bouts and corners; style and work very primitive, mostly double purfled. MEIBERI, Francesco, Leghorn, 1750. MESSEGUER, Spanish, about 1646. MEZADRI, Alessandro, Ferrara, 1690-1722. The pattern is inelegant, and the sound-holes too close. MEZADRI, Francesco, Milan, about 1712. MIALFI, Joannes, 1769. The label is in Spanish. Ordinary character of work. [Illustration: _Plate IX_. GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESU. 1737. (LATE H. O. HAVEMEYER, ESQ.)] MONTAGNANA, Domenico, Cremona and Venice, 1700-1740. Dominicus Montagnana Sub Signo Cremonae Venetiis 17-- Pupil of Antonio Stradivari. After leaving the workshop of his famous master, he followed his art in Cremona. He afterwards removed to Venice, where Violin manufacture was in the most flourishing condition, and adopted the name of "Cremona" as the sign of his house. In days when houses were unnumbered, tradesmen were found by their sign, and they were often puzzled to select one both distinctive and effective. The Violin-makers of Italy, having exhausted the calendar of its Saints emblematic of Harmony, left it to the Venetian to honour the name of himself and the city which was the seat of the greatest Violin manufacture the world had witnessed. In Venice he soon attained great popularity, and made the splendid specimens of his art with which we are familiar. The instructions which he had received at Cremona enabled him to surpass all in Venice. He gained great knowledge of the qualities of material, and of the thicknesses to be observed; and, moreover, he carried with him the superior form of the Cremonese school, and the glorious varnish. Mr. Reade names him "the mighty Venetian," an appellation not a whit too high-sounding, though it may appear so to those not acquainted with his finest works. The truth is, that Montagnana is less known than any of the great makers. For years his works have been roaming about, bearing the magic labels of "Guarnerius filius Andreae," "Carlo Bergonzi," and sometimes of "Pietro Guarneri," although there is barely a particle of resemblance between the works of our author and the makers named, whose labels have been used as floats. Montagnana was in every way original, but the fraud that has foisted his works upon makers who were better known has prevented his name from being associated with many of his choicest instruments, and deprived him of the place which he would long since have held in the estimation of the true connoisseur. This injustice, however, is fast passing away; as ever, genius comes forth triumphant. The time is near when the "mighty Venetian" and Carlo Bergonzi will occupy positions little less considerable than that of the two great masters. Already the merits of these makers are daily more appreciated, and when the scarcity of their genuine works is considered, it becomes a matter of certainty that their rank must be raised to the point indicated. It is much to be regretted that both Montagnana and Bergonzi did not leave more numerous specimens behind them. Would that each had been as prolific as their common master! We should then have inherited a store from which our coming Violinists and Violoncellists could have possessed themselves of splendid instruments, when those of Guarneri and Stradivari were placed far beyond reach. In these times, when the love of music is rapidly developing itself among all classes, the question of supply must attract notice. The prime question with respect to Violins of the highest character is not now as to price, but as to the supply of limited and daily decreasing material; and the doubtful point is, not whether purchasers are to be found who may not be unwilling to pay the increased cost consequent upon scarcity, but whether the instruments required will be available in sufficient numbers to satisfy the demands of those quite prepared to gratify their wishes for the possession of an instrument of the first rank. A single glance is sufficient to remind us that the list of makers of the highest class, and particularly of original artists, is scanty indeed. There are a few copyists, it is true, notably Lupot and Panormo, whose instruments must take a considerable position, but on the whole the demand will far exceed the supply. The difficulty here noticed is intensified from the fact of the Violin being sought after as it is, unlike any other musical instrument, for the cabinets of the collector as well as for actual use--a state of things perfectly natural when its artistic beauties are considered. Violinists possibly consider they smart under a sense of wrong at the hands of collectors who thus indulge their taste; but, on the other hand, we have reason to be grateful to the lovers of art for having stayed the hand of Time in demolishing these treasures. To return to the subject of this present notice: it is evident that when Montagnana left the workshop of Stradivari, he gave full scope to his creative powers. He at once began to construct upon principles of his own, and thus followed the example of his fellow-worker, Carlo Bergonzi. If comparison be made between the work of Stradivari and that of Domenico Montagnana, with regard to detail, the two makers will not be found to have much in common. It is when Montagnana's instrument is viewed as a whole that the teaching of Stradivari is evidenced. A similar assertion may, in a lesser degree, be made in the case of Carlo Bergonzi. To dissect the several points of difference is a simple matter. If we begin with the outline, that of Montagnana has not the smoothness and grace of the Stradivarian type; the upper and lower curves are flattened, while those of the centre are extended. The sound-hole partakes more of the character of Guarneri; the scroll is larger, and the turns bolder than in the Stradivari form. These, then, may be considered to be the chief points wherein, if viewed as separate items, Montagnana seems to have varied from his master: and hence we may obtain some idea of the amount of originality belonging to this maker--an amount, indeed, not inferior to that of any Cremonese artist that can be cited. The increasing popularity of Montagnana's instruments is sufficient proof that his design was fraught with much that is valuable. In departing from the form of Antonio Stradivari, Carlo Bergonzi and Montagnana doubtless intended to bring out in a stronger degree certain particular qualities of tone: at the same time we may be sure that they had no idea of attempting to improve upon Stradivari in his own field of work, for they must have well known the Herculean character of such a task. On the other hand, had these remarkable makers been mere copyists, they would certainly have handed down to us more instruments moulded in exact accord with the style of their great teacher; while, at the same time, we should have lost many variations, which are at present not only an evidence of their fertility of resource, but also in themselves most pleasing objects. If, in the sister art, Tintoretto had made it his sole business to copy Titian, the world would have been rich in copies of Titian, but poor in Tintorettos. The varnish of Montagnana has long excited the admiration of connoisseurs throughout Europe. The extreme richness and velvet-like softness which are its characteristics constitute it a fitting countersign of the workmanship of this great maker, an artist of the first magnitude. He made Violins, Tenors, and Violoncellos. His Violins are of two sizes. MONTALDI, Gregorio, Cremona, 1730. Copied Stradivari. MORELLA, ----, Mantua, about 1550. M. Fetis, in his "Biographie Universelle des Musiciens," states that he was famous for his Viols and Lutes. S. Ang. Maffei, in his "Annali di Mantova" (fol. 147), highly praises the instruments made by Morella. NADOTTI, Giuseppe, Piacenza. A Violin by this maker was in 1881 exhibited at the Milan Exhibition, dated 1767. NELLA, Raffaele, Brescia, copied Maggini. ORTEGA, ----, Madrid, about 1840. Maker and restorer of instruments. PANDOLFI, Antonio, Venice. A Violin of this make, dated 1719, was among the instruments exhibited at the Milan Exhibition in 1881. PANORMO, Vincenzo, Palermo, born about 1740, died 1813. This maker was one of the most successful followers of Antonio Stradivari. Panormo and Lupot share the palm as copyists of the great Cremonese master. Neither appears to have attempted to create a model of his own; their sole aim was to imitate to the utmost the various patterns of Stradivari, Guarneri, and Amati, but they principally confined themselves to Stradivari. Vincenzo Panormo left Italy in early life, and settled for a short time in Paris, from which city a few of his instruments are dated. From Paris he removed to London, where he remained many years. He also visited Ireland, where he made, it is said, several beautiful instruments from an old maple billiard-table, with which he was fortunate enough to meet. He was of a restless temperament, which showed itself in continual self-imposed changes. He would not, or could not, permit his reputation to grow steadily, by residing long in one place, but as soon as fame was within his grasp, he sacrificed the work of years by removing to an entirely new field of labour. Panormo furnishes us with another example of the certain appreciation, sooner or later, of exceptional talents. No matter how trifling the circumstances under which gifted men have laboured, some time or other their genius is discovered, and acknowledged with its due award, if not of fortune, at least of fame. The peculiar circumstances under which Panormo lived would have been sufficient in the case of most men to dwarf all efforts. Unable to obtain readily that patronage to which his abilities justly entitled him, he removed from city to city, hoping to discover a resting-place, in which favour might attend his art. No doubt this was a mistaken course, and one which robbed his work of the attention which a mind undisturbed by the care of existence can bestow; nevertheless his natural gifts had a vitality that could not entirely be suppressed. He worked and toiled for his art and for bare sustenance alternately. His life, like that of many others in the paths of literature and science, was a continued battle with adversity. Such persons are forced to satisfy daily wants by slaving at work which brings them but little credit in after time, and becomes a standard by which they are too often erroneously judged. Vincenzo Panormo was the slave of many, manufacturing Double Basses and other instruments from the material selected and purchased by his temporary employer, ofttimes compelled to carry out some crotchet of the patron much against his own wishes. The wood thus forced upon him was often of the worst description; and, in addition, he was frequently obliged to complete his work within a given time. Instruments manufactured under such conditions can scarcely, it may be supposed, add to their maker's reputation. We cannot but regret that he should have been obliged to waste himself on such poor materials. Fortunately, however, in some cases he found time to exercise his skilful powers to their full extent, and has thus bequeathed to us some of the finest specimens of the copyist's art. His workmanship is of a lighter description than that of Lupot, and is therefore more graceful. The sound-hole is admirably cut, and the scroll also well carved. PANSANI, Antonio, Rome, 1735. PASTA, Antonio, Brescia, 1700-1730. Good work. Model a little high; varnish of soft quality. PASTA, Domenico, Brescia, about 1700. PAZZINI, Gaetano, Florence, about 1630, pupil of Maggini. PICINO, Padua, 1712. High model; dark varnish. PLATNER, Michel, Rome, about 1750. The instruments of this maker resemble those of Tecchler, both in workmanship and varnish. Michael Platner fecit Romae anno 17-- POLLUSCA, Antonio, Rome, about 1751. POSTIGLIONE, Vincenzo, Naples, contemporary. PRESSENDA, Giovanni Francesco, Turin. Joannes Franciscus Pressenda q. Raphael fecit Taurini Anno Domini 1826. Born in the year 1777. The Violins bearing the label of Pressenda are excellently made, and in many instances the varnish is superior to that met with on any Violins dated from Italy in the present century. Pressenda appears to have interested himself to some extent in the matter of varnish. In a little book published in Italy[13] there is the following passage: "A pale reflection of the old art (Violin-making) is found in Piedmont, with Guadagnini." The writer continues with the following reference to Pressenda of Turin, who, he remarks, was in his youth at Cremona, "where he collected the traditions of the school as regards modelling and the preparation of the varnish, which is the chief merit of his Violins." It is almost needless to remark that traditional information is frequently unsatisfactory, but particularly so in connection with Cremonese Violin-making and varnishing, near the middle of the last century. In short, the great makers left no other record of the steps they took both in manufacture and in the preparation of their varnish than can be discovered in their works. The instruments of Pressenda present a singular contrast with others of Italian make belonging to this century, most of which evidence what may be termed the throes of a dying manufacture. With Pressenda we appear to have a new departure, in which there is some show of attention having been paid to the work accomplished in the best workshops of Paris. The then condition of Violin-making in Italy made it necessary for any Italian maker--no matter how great his ability--to seek information elsewhere, if desirous of excelling in his art. Pressenda appears to have sought to emulate and even surpass many Parisian makers by associating his name for the most part with good and unsophisticated work. The results of his labours reflect no little credit on his skill and judgment. Pressenda may be styled a born maker of Violins. From an account published by Signor Rinaldi, of Turin, in 1873, we learn that Pressenda was the son of poor parents, who lived in Lequio-Berria, a hamlet in the vicinity of Alba, in Piedmont. His father Raffaele was a strolling fiddler, and gained his precarious livelihood by playing at village fairs and other rejoicings. On these occasions he was accompanied by his son Giovanni, who followed the occupation of his father, playing the Violin with some degree of skill. It was at this period that he appears to have manifested a desire to know something of Violin manufacture, and frequently asked for information from his parent, who, however, was rarely able to satisfy his curiosity. Learning that Cremona was in some way associated with good Violins, he resolved to fiddle his way to that city. There he found Storioni, from whom he obtained some rudimentary knowledge of the manufacture he was so much interested in. Later he removed to Piedmont, and established himself in Alba in 1814, as a maker of Violins. The patronage he gained was, however, insufficient to maintain him, and he combined the business of cabinet-making with his favourite pursuit. After removing to Carmagnola, he went in the year 1820 to Turin, where his abilities were recognised and rewarded. He was encouraged in his manufacture by Giovanni Battista Polledro, the famous Violinist, who, in 1824, became Musical Director of the Royal Orchestra at Turin. Pressenda died in the year 1854 at Turin. His Violins are chiefly of the model of Stradivari. The sound-holes are well cut. The thicknesses of his best instruments are well arranged, and the wood appears to have been selected with good judgment. The scrolls, whilst having much character, are somewhat roughly cut. The Violins belonging to his early period are chiefly of the Amatese character. [Footnote 13: "L'Italie economique," 1847.] RACCERIS,----, Mantua, about 1670. RINALDI, Gioffredo, Turin. (Benedetti, Gioffredo.) Chiefly known as a dealer in Violins. He exhibited a few Violins by Giovanni F. Pressenda at the Vienna Exhibition, 1873, and published a short notice of that maker, which he inscribed to the Archduke Rannieri. RIVOLTA, Giacomo, Milan, about 1822. Excellent work; scroll well cut. One of the best Italian makers of the nineteenth century. ROCCA, Joseph Antonio, Piedmont, 1837-1863. Chiefly followed the pattern of Stradivarius. Neat workmanship, varnish rather thin, well-cut scroll. He worked for some time with Pressenda. RODIANI, Giovita, sometimes called Budiani; Brescia, about 1580-1620. His instruments resemble those of Maggini. Dragonetti is said to have had a Double Bass of this make. ROTA, Giovanni, Cremona. Yellow varnish, plain wood, heavy work, rough purfling. Joannes Rota fecit Cremonese Anno 1808. ROVETTA, Bergamo, 1840-70. ROGERI, Giovanni Battista, Cremona and Brescia. Io: Bapt. Rogerius Bon: Nicolai Amati de Cremona Alumnus Brixiae fecit Anno Domini 1705. The word Bon after his name refers to his having been a citizen of Bologna. Vincenzo Lancetti speaks of its being certain that he called himself _Bononiensis_. The instruments of this maker are of a different pattern from those of Francesco Ruggeri. They are higher modelled, the sound-holes less elegant, and the scroll heavier. They possess, however, high merits, and command prices nearly equivalent to those of the instruments of Francesco. The labels of this maker are sometimes met with printed in red ink. The instruments he made of large Amati pattern are highly valued. He appears to have worked from about the close of the seventeenth century. Count Cozio di Salabue and Lancetti speak of G. B. Rogeri having worked down to 1723, and possibly later, and state that he lived for many years in Brescia. There are some instruments bearing original Amati labels of this make, made, doubtless, when he was in the shop of Amati. ROGERI, Pietro Giacomo, Brescia, describes himself on his label as a pupil of Niccolo Amati. Lancetti refers to a Violoncello by Pietro Rogeri as having belonged to Count Cozio, and remarks that he was a "nearly unknown member of the Rogeri family." The date of the instrument is given as 1714. He cannot now be looked upon as almost unknown, since Signor Piatti played for many years upon a famous Violoncello of his make. The pattern is a little narrower than that of G. B. Rogeri. Varnish of beautiful quality; sound-hole resembles that of Francesco Ruggeri. RUGGERI, Francesco, Cremona, 1668-1720. Francesco Ruggeri detto il Per Cremona 16-- Surnamed "Il Per." The family of Ruggeri long occupied a foremost place in the city of Cremona as makers of Violins, Tenors, and Violoncellos. Their position must have been but little inferior to that of the Amati family. Francesco, in his earliest works, gives evidence of exceptional artistic feeling, and the sequel of his career, as evidenced by his productions, is a genuine development of the first impulses of his genius. His work belongs to the school of Amati, but though the list of instruments which he has bequeathed to us be a long one, there is no sign of his ever having been a mere copyist. He evidently thought for himself. His sound-hole is a beautiful piece of workmanship, and may be said to come between that of Niccolo Amati and Stradivari, being of the most delicate execution. The outline of his work is very graceful, and the arching admirable. The scroll has quite an equal merit with the body. He was very successful in selecting his material, much of which is handsome. His varnish, thoroughly Cremonese in character, and of a most beautiful hue, may be equalled, but never surpassed. This maker also knew how to use his varnish. There is no instance in which it has been laid on in clumsy patches; the surface is always true and even, and, in consequence, the brilliancy of its appearance is perfect. Lancetti remarks, "Francesco Ruggeri was a pupil of Niccolo Amati, and perhaps a more exact imitator of his instruments than G. B. Rogeri, and made several instruments, beautifully finished, and which are not easily distinguished from those of his master." Count Cozio possessed a fine Violin by Francesco, dated 1684, and the Marquis Castiglioni also possessed one made in the same year. Francesco Ruggeri died at the house No. 7, Contrada Coltellai, Cremona. RUGGERI, Giacinto detto Il Per, Cremona. Son of Francesco Ruggeri. A Violoncello bearing this label is in the possession of Mr. G. Foster Cooke: Giacinto filio di Francesco Ruggeri detto il Per 1696. RUGGERI, Vincenzo, Cremona, also uses the name "Il Per." Worked from about 1700 to 1730. He appears to have made many Violoncellos. Vincenzo Ruger detto il Per in Cremona 17-- RUGGERI, Giambattista, Cremona. About 1693. Also called himself Il Per. Lancetti suggests that this maker was a relative of Francesco. He made several Violoncellos of large size and deep sides, the wood of which is often plain. The varnish is of good quality and dark brown colour. He also made Violins and Tenors, the latter being excellent instruments. SACCHINI, Sebastiano. Sebastino Sacchni da Pesaro l'anno 1686. SALO, Gasparo da. Gasparo da Salo Brescia. His real name was Gasparo dei Bertolotti. The researches of Cavalliere Livi, keeper of the Brescian Archives, have brought to light much valuable information as to this famous maker. He was born in the town of Salo (Province of Brescia) in or about the year 1542, died there on the 14th of April, 1609, and was buried in the church of San Joseffo. A son (Francesco) appears to have worked with him and to have died in 1614. Several Viols of Gasparo's workmanship, of different sizes, are still extant. The Violins are very rare. A few large Violas exist, the tone of which is magnificent. His genuine labels bear no date. Gio Paolo Maggini was apprenticed to him, and is believed to have purchased the business, after Gasparo's death, from his son Francesco. To Gasparo da Salo belongs the credit of having laid the foundation of the Italian style of Violin-making. In his works may be traced the gradual development of the system upon which his followers built their reputation, viz., a well-defined model, excellent materials, and choice varnish. It is to be regretted that his immediate followers, with the exception of Paolo Maggini, departed from the path so successfully trodden by this great pioneer. But for this deviation, the works of the early Amati and a few others would have occupied a higher position than that which they now command. They were men possessing great abilities, and might easily have carried out the designs of the great Brescian maker. They appear, however, to have arrived at a different conclusion, as regards the form of their instrument, from that shaped by Gasparo da Salo. Their works show an evident preference for the high model, and thus undid much that Gasparo had accomplished. It is clear that Gasparo only arrived at his conclusions after painstaking labour, for he commenced with the high form, and gradually, as experience taught, lowered it. It is, further, remarkable that the latter members of the Amati family pursued the same course as Andrea Amati (though in a less degree), after which they awoke, as it were, to the reasonableness of the example set by Gasparo, and gave us those instruments so highly thought of by the connoisseur, the form of which has much in common with that adopted by Niccolo Amati and perfected by Antonio Stradivari. It has been before remarked that Gasparo da Salo did not arrive at his conclusions without mature consideration. In fact, a long and deliberate process of experiment may be traced in his instruments. We find that at times his Violins and Violas were treated differently from the Accordos and Violonos. The Violins are found to be high in model, while the above-named instruments, evidently of the same date, are flat. He would seem to have been desirous of testing the powers of either model, and it is possible that he fostered the idea of varying the construction of each of the four species in the family of stringed instruments according to the part which should be allotted to it. To treat each part of the stringed quartette in a different way is certainly an error, for they are to be looked upon as gradations of one and the same instrument; nevertheless, the attempt of Gasparo, although mistaken, offers but another instance of his prolific ingenuity and unwearied diligence. An praise is due to the great Brescian maker for having opened up, as a pioneer, so wide a field of research. The Cremonese artists followed up his clue, and brought the Violin to the highest state of excellence. [Illustration: _Plate X_. DOMENICO MONTAGNANA. (GEO. GUDGEON, ESQ.)] The chief characteristics of the works of Gasparo da Salo are the sound-holes, shortened centre-bouts, scroll, and peculiar choice of material. The length of the sound-hole at first strikes one as somewhat crude, but as the eye becomes more acquainted with the general form of the instrument, it is seen to be in perfect harmony with the primitive outline. With this sound-hole commences the pointed form to which Giuseppe Guarneri, nearly a century and a half later, gave such perfection. The material used for the larger instruments is mostly pear-wood, or wood of that description, the quality of which is particularly fine. In the selection of this wood he showed a still minuter discrimination, using it generally for Accordos and Violonos, and not for Violins or Violas; few specimens of the latter have backs of pear-wood. His work was bold, but not highly finished; no other result could be looked for at so early a date. The grain of the bellies is usually very even and well defined. Signor Dragonetti, the late eminent Double-Bass player, possessed three or four Double-Basses by this maker of various sizes. The most celebrated of these instruments was presented to him by the monks of the monastery of St. Mark's, Venice, about the year 1776, and was returned to the Canons of that Church (the monks and the monastery having been suppressed since the French occupation of Venice in 1805 or 1809) after Dragonetti's death, in 1846. Another was bequeathed by Dragonetti to the late Duke of Leinster. A third is in the possession of the Rev. George Leigh Blake. Among his chamber Double-Basses the one formerly belonging to Mr. Bennett is regarded as a singularly perfect example. It was numbered with the rarities of Luigi Tarisio's collection, and highly valued by him as a specimen of the maker. Among his Violins, the instrument formerly owned by Lord Amherst, of Hackney, is unique; the infancy of the Violin at this period is better seen here than any specimen with which I am acquainted. The Violin of this make which belonged to Ole Bull, and with which I am familiar, is another well-known example. This instrument is characteristic of its author. Its varnish is soft-looking and rich, though paler than usual. The finger-board is inlaid, and is made of a light description of wood. The head is carved and painted, and is a very choice piece of Italian work. SANONI, Giovanni Battista, Verona. About 1740. His instruments are seldom met with in England. High model. SANTO, Giovanni, Naples, 1700-30. Copied Amati. Varnish very hard, and workmanship indifferent. SANZO, Milan. Middle and early eighteenth century. Similar to Grancino. SARDI, ----, Venice, 1649. A broken Violin bearing this name was at the Milan Exhibition, 1881. SEIGHER, Girolamo. Worked in the shop of Niccolo Amati from 1680 to 1682. SELLAS, Matteo, Lute-maker. M. Chouquet, in his "Catalogue Raisonne" of the instruments at the Paris Conservatoire, mentions two Arch-Lutes made by this maker. SERAFINO, Santo, Udine--Venice, 1710-48. Sanctus Seraphin utinensis Fecit Venetijs Ann. 17-- This maker is chiefly famed for the exquisite finish of his workmanship. The modelling of his instruments varied. There are instances, particularly in the case of his Violins, where he has entirely set aside the Stainer form, and copied Amati. These Violins are wonderfully like the work of Francesco Ruggeri. The varnish upon them, of a rich red colour, is of so exceptional a quality, that one is compelled to look twice before being satisfied as to the author. The greater number, however, of his instruments are of the German character, the sound-hole, scroll, and outline all hinting of Stainer. These Venetians were wonderfully fortunate in obtaining handsome wood, and in this respect Santo Serafino was pre-eminent, for his sides and backs are simply beautiful to perfection. His method of cutting the wood was invariably to show the grain in even stripes. The scroll is well cut in point of workmanship, but the style is poor. Santo Serafino cannot be regarded as having displayed originality in any shape, and he thus forms an exception to the great majority of Italian makers. His instruments are either copies of Amati or of Stainer; there is, of course, a strong Italian flavour about his Stainer copies, which lifts them above the German school of imitators, and hence their higher value. Nearly all his instruments were branded with his name above the tail-pin. He used an ornamental label of large size. The Violoncello in the possession of Mr. M. J. Astle is a charming specimen of Serafino's work, I may say unequalled. SNEIDER, Josefo, Pavia. Lancetti remarks that many of the Violins by Girolamo Amati, son of Niccolo, were attributed to this maker. Joseph Sneider Papiae Alumnus Nicolai Amati Cremonae fecit Anno 17-- SOCCHI, Vincenzo, 1661, Bologna. In the Catalogue of M. Chouquet mention is made of a Kit or Pochette by this maker in the Paris Conservatoire. SORSANA, Giuseppe, 1700-1750. Said to have been a pupil of Stradivari. Highly finished work, varnish of beautiful quality. Joseph Sorsana fecit Cremone sub discip. Ant. Stradivarii 1737. STATLEE, Anderl, Genoa, about 1714. Signed himself as a pupil of Hieronymus Amati (son of Niccolo). Not unlike the work of Urquhart. STREGNER, Magno, Venice, Lute-maker. STORIONI, Lorenzo, Cremona, about 1769 to 1799. Laurentius Storioni Fecit Cremonae 17-- The last of the old makers who evinced any marked degree of originality. Although there is an almost total absence of refinement in his works, there is much that is clever, which has gradually caused these instruments to be valued very highly. He appears to have made Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu his idol. Although his instruments cannot be considered as copies, yet there is evidence of his having made use of the salient points belonging to Guarneri, which he fitted, as it were, to his own model. He had much of the disregard of mere appearance which Guarneri so often displayed, and seems to have been guided by similar fancies. His freak was to place his sound-holes in all sorts of ways, scarcely twice alike. His outline is always vigorous, but without thought of symmetrical appearance. There is not an instrument of his make that could have been made upon a mould--they were built from the blocks, and the result, as may be expected, is not graceful. M. Vieuxtemps, some years ago, possessed himself of a Storioni Violin, now belonging to Mr. Proctor, and, having carefully regulated it, succeeded in bringing forth its great powers. His hearers were so delighted that attention was speedily directed to this neglected maker. These instruments are highly thought of in Italy. The varnish is not of the Cremonese description, but partakes of the Neapolitan character. The purfling is unusually narrow, and roughly worked; the scroll is stiff, and the absence of finish is observable. The material he used was generally good in point of acoustical properties, though not handsome. Storioni does not appear to have made many Tenors or Violoncellos--the latter are rarely met with. Storioni died in 1799. He lived at the house No. 3, Contrada Coltellai, which was afterwards occupied by G. B. Ceruti. STRADIVARI, Antonio, Cremona. "The instrument on which he played Was in Cremona's workshops made, By a great master of the past, Ere yet was lost the art divine; Fashioned of maple and of pine, That in Tyrolian forests vast Had rocked and wrestled with the blast; Exquisite was it in design, A marvel of the lutist's art, Perfect in each minutest part; And in its hollow chamber, thus, The maker from whose hands it came Had written his unrivalled name-- 'Antonius Stradivarius.'"--LONGFELLOW. Antonius Stradiuarius Cremonensis Faciebat Anno 17-- The renown of this remarkable maker of Violins is beyond that of all others; his praise has been sung alike by poet, artist, and musician. His magic name is ever rising to the lips in the presence of the "king of instruments"; its sound is as familiar to the humble player as to the finished artist. He has received the undisputed homage of two centuries, and time seems but to add to the number and devotion of his liege subjects: to-day he is as little likely to be dethroned as Shakespeare. Although many interesting particulars concerning Antonio Stradivari have been obtained from time to time, there is wanting that which alone can fully satisfy his admirers, viz., connected records of the chief events of his life. Every endeavour has been made to supply, in some way, this deficiency, by consulting documents relating to the city of Cremona during the 17th and 18th centuries. The results of these inquiries are of much value, and the reader will be made acquainted with them in the following pages. With a patience worthy of reward, the late librarian at Cremona, Professor Peter Fecit, searched for the will of Stradivari, but as no proper register appears to have been kept until long after the famous maker died, his efforts were unsuccessful. Although the contents of the will might throw but a faint light upon the doings of the testator, there might be found particulars that would link together much of the information we already possess. The date of birth of Antonio Stradivari was made known to M. Fetis in 1856,[14] upon evidence contained in an inventory of instruments which belonged to Count Cozio di Salabue. The inventory was made upon the occasion of the instruments being deposited with Carlo Carli, a Milanese banker. Among the Violins there appears to have been one by Antonio Stradivari, bearing a label upon which, in the handwriting of its maker, was stated his age, namely, ninety-two years, and the date 1736; thus making the year of birth 1644. "That plain white-aproned man who stood at work, Patient and accurate, full _fourscore_ years, Cherished his sight and touch by temperance; And, since keen sense is love of perfectness, Made perfect Violins, the needed paths For inspiration and high mastery." _Stradivari_, by GEORGE ELIOT. [Footnote 14: "Antoine Stradivari, luthier celebre," par F. I. Fetis. Paris, 1856.] Previous to the publication of this evidence by M. Fetis, the date of birth was given as 1664, and it has been stated as 1644 or 1650. Don Paolo Lombardini, in his pamphlet on Stradivari published at Cremona in 1872, gives an interesting genealogical account of the great Cremonese maker and his family. The author follows the date of birth as stated by M. Fetis. This is succeeded by information of his own discovery, namely, the date of the marriage of Stradivari, July 4, 1667. He appears to have married a widow named Capra, whose maiden name was Ferraboschi, her age being twenty-seven, and that of Stradivari twenty-three, according to the date given by Lombardini. GENEALOGICAL TABLE OF THE FAMILY OF STRADIVARI, EXTRACTED FROM THE PAMPHLET OF PAOLO LOMBARDINI. STRADIVARI, ALESSANDRO = MORONI, ANNA STRADIVARI, GIUSEPPE J., born March 20, 1623. STRADIVARI, ANTONIO, born 1644; died Dec. 18, 1737. = Married, July 4, 1667 = FERRABOSCHI, FRANCESCA, born Oct. 7, 1640; died May 25, 1698. (1) GIULIO, born Dec. 23, 1667; married, 1688; died Aug. 7, 1707. (2) FRANCESCO, born Feb. 6, 1670; died Feb. 12, 1670. (3) FRANCESCO, born Feb. 1, 1671; died May 11, 1743. (4) CATTERINA, born Feb. 18, 1674; died Aug. 3, 1748. (5) ALESSANDRO, born May 25, 1677; died Jan. 26, 1732. (6) OMOBONO, born Nov. 14, 1679; died June 9, 1742. = Married, second time, Aug. 24, 1699. = ZAMBELLI, ANTONIA, born June 11, 1664 died March 3, 1737. (7) FRANCESCA, born Sept. 19, 1700; died Feb. 11, 1720. (8) G. B. GIUSEPPE, born Nov. 6, 1701; died June 7, 1702. (9) G. B. MARTINO, born Nov. 11, 1703; died Nov. 1, 1727. (10) GIUSEPPE, born Oct. 27, 1704; (Priest) died Nov. 29, 1781. (11) PAOLO, born Jan. 26, 1708; (Cloth Merchant) died Oct. 19, 1776. = TEMPLARI, ELENA, born 1705; died 1776. ANTONIO II., born 1738; | died 1789. | = DALLA NOCE, MARGARITA, born 1739; | died 1787. | GIUSEPPE, born 1763. | LUIGIA, born 1765. | FRANCESCA, born 1767. | GIACOMO, born 1769; | | died 1828. | | = Married, 1797. | | = CORNIERI, GIUSEPPA, died Jan. 25, 1803. | | CESARE, born 1798 (Physician). | | | = Married, 1838. | | | = MAINI, LAVINIA, born 1808; | | | died 1862. | | | LIBERO, born Jan. 29, 1840 (Barrister). | | | = Married, 1867. | | | = PODESTA, GIOVANNA, born 184-. | | | CLELIA, born 1868. | | | ANNITA, born 1871. | | | ITALO, born 187-. | | PIETRO, born 1800; | | died 1869. | | GIUSEPPE, born 1802. | | = Married, 1836. | | = CRISTINI, MARIA, born 1807. | | FANNY. | | EUFEMIA. | | ENRICO. | | = Married, second time, 1821. | | = BONAZZI, ROSALINDA, born 1792. | | GIACOMA 2nd, born 1822; (of Milan). | | = Married, 1861. | | = ROSSI, FANNY, born 1835. | | ELENA. | | SILVIA. | | PIERINA. | | FAUSTO. | ANTONIA, born 1771; | died 1816. FRANCESCA, born 1739; died 1809 (Nun). CARLO, born Dec. 4, 1741; died 1808. FRANCESCO, born 1744; died 1746. PAOLO, born 1746; died 1792. It is interesting to find evidence of some importance relative to the question of the age of Stradivari from the pen of Lancetti. He says, "Antonio having worked to the age of ninety-three years, died in Cremona in the year 1738, at the age of ninety-four years." Though this is obviously incorrect (the register showing that he died in 1737), the extract serves to support the date of birth, resting upon the evidence of the inventory, inasmuch as it satisfactorily shows the age Stradivari was considered to be by his own family, since Count Cozio communicated the information to Lancetti from correspondence with Paolo Stradivari, son of Antonio. In passing, it may be observed that Stradivari died December 18, 1737, and therefore the year mentioned by his son Paolo was only incorrect by thirteen days. He was equally as near the truth in saying his father was ninety-four when he should have said he was in his ninety-fourth year. Having referred to the manuscript inventory, upon which rests the date of birth as given by Fetis--which document, taken by itself, it must be said is unsatisfactory--and having noticed the age of Stradivari as represented by his son, I will turn to other evidence in support of the inventory. The late Mr. Muntz, of Birmingham, possessed a Violin by Stradivari, dated 1736, and, in writing, the age of the maker is given as ninety-two. Another Violin by Stradivari, made in the same year, and similarly labelled, was bequeathed by the late Mrs. Lewis Hill to the Royal Academy of Music. This Violin has been regarded as one of the instruments found in the maker's shop when he died. It originally belonged to Habeneck, the well-known professor, and was taken to Paris between the years 1824 and 1830. Luigi Tarisio became possessed of some of the instruments mentioned in the inventory found among the papers of Carlo Carli, the banker, and one of these Violins in all probability furnished the evidence of the date of birth referred to by M. Fetis, and both instruments were probably purchased by Tarisio, together with the Violin dated 1716, named by Vuillaume "le Messie."[15] The last instrument necessary to notice in confirmation of the date, hitherto resting alone on the inventory, was in the possession of the late M. H. de St. Sennoch, of Paris. It is dated 1737, and in the handwriting of Stradivari is his age, ninety-three years, which decides the correctness of the statement made by Lancetti (upon the authority of Count Cozio di Salabue, who received the information from Paolo Stradivari in 1775) that "Antonio worked up to the age of ninety-three years." [Footnote 15: The information which M. Fetis gives of this Violin was based on the inventory of Carlo Carli. It is also mentioned in the correspondence between Count Cozio and Lancetti.] In the absence of direct information concerning the life of Stradivari, we must turn to his instruments for such evidence as we require; and these, happily, give us a greater insight into his career than would be readily imagined. I am not aware that any Violin of Stradivari is known in which it is stated that he was a pupil of Niccolo Amati, or that the assumption has been maintained on any other grounds than the indisputable evidence furnished by the early instruments of this great maker.[16] Never has affinity in the art of Violin manufacture been more marked than that between Stradivari and Niccolo Amati during the early life of the former. I have, in another place, remarked upon the almost invariable similarity occurring between the works of master and pupil, and have used this canon in refutation of the doctrine that Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesu was ever a pupil of Antonio Stradivari. Lancetti states that the instruments of Stradivari made in 1665, and others in 1666, bear the label of Niccolo Amati, and instances one that was in the collection of Count Cozio, to which Stradivari made a new belly, many years later, in his best style. It is certain that instruments as described by Lancetti have been recognised by intelligent connoisseurs as wholly the work of Stradivari (in which case, as may be imagined, they have no longer been allowed to sail under false colours, but have had their proper certificate of birth attached to them). In other instances the beautiful scroll of Stradivari has been recognised on the body of an Amati, or the sound-hole has shown that it was cut by the hand of Stradivari. [Footnote 16: Upon reference to Lancetti's MSS., I find that he states Stradivari used a label with the words "Nicolai Amati Alumnus," about 1666.] Having met with a Violin by Stradivari (since the publication of the first edition of this work) dated 1666, it would appear that he left the workshop of his master at that time, or not later than the year of his marriage in 1667. The extracts obtained by Canon Bazzi from the parish registers, relative to the pupils of Niccolo Amati, help to establish the correctness of this view. Stradivari must have been in the workshop of his master between the years 1658 and 1666. We have no information of the pupils of Amati from 1654 to 1665. In 1666 the name of Giorgio Fraiser is given; consequently Stradivari must have left previous to 1666 or early in that year, and prior to the registration. Between the years 1666 and 1672 there is observable a marked change in style, and the workmanship is better. The instruments he made about this period have wood for the most part singularly plain, and different in kind from what his master used. His use of this material I am disposed to attribute to the want of means rather than choice. The purfling of these early instruments is very narrow, and many of the backs are cut slab-form. Previous to about the year 1672, we find that his whole work is in accordance with the plans of Amati (not as seen in the latter's _grand_ pattern, but in his ordinary full-sized instrument); the arching is identical, the corners are treated similarly, the sound-hole is quite Amati-like in form, yet easily distinguished by its extreme delicacy, the scroll a thorough imitation of Amati, and presenting a singular contrast to the vigorous individuality which Stradivari displayed in this portion of his work a few years later. Enough has been said to enable the reader to recognise the connection which must have existed between Amati and Stradivari, to admit of such marked resemblances. Taking the instruments of Stradivari as beacons throwing light upon many curious and interesting points of the maker's manufacture, the number and character of his Violins and Violoncellos made during the decade following 1674 is indicative of his having increased both his reputation and his patronage. The last year of this period, namely 1684, was that in which his master, Niccolo Amati, died, at the age of eighty-eight. We have already seen, in the notice of Amati, that Niccolo was the last member of the family who maintained unbroken the long chain of associations connected with the house of Amati, extending over a period of a century and a half. The circumstance of all the tools, patterns, and models of Niccolo Amati having passed into the possession of his pupil Stradivari, and not into that of his son Girolamo (who was then thirty-five years of age), clearly shows that the son did not succeed to his father's business. We are thus led to believe that during the ten years above referred to, Niccolo Amati had been gradually lessening his activity, and that the patronage so long enjoyed by the Amati family fell for the most part to his gifted pupil, Antonio Stradivari. Among the interesting items of information supplied by the efforts of Paolo Lombardini, relative to Stradivari, is that of the purchase of the house, in 1680, of the Brothers Picenardi for seven thousand imperial lire, equivalent to above 800 pounds in present English money. This purchase, made about fourteen years after Stradivari began to manufacture on his own account, well marks the progress he made. I have, however, further proof of his fame and prosperity at this period in the valuable extracts from the manuscript of Desiderio Arisi, at Cremona. [Illustration: _Plate XI_. ANTONIO STRADIVARI. _Tenor_. Date 1690. (Made for the Grand Duke of Florence.) ANTONIO STRADIVARI. 1734. (LATE GEO. AMES, ESQ.)] The knowledge Arisi had of Stradivari is shown by the following remarks written by him in the year 1720. He says, "In Cremona is also living my intimate friend Antonio Stradivari, an excellent maker of all kinds of musical instruments.[17] It will not be out of place to make special mention of his merits. His fame is unequalled as a maker of instruments of the finest qualities, and he has made many of extraordinary beauty, which are richly ornamented with small figures, flowers, fruits, arabesques, and graceful interlaying of fanciful ornaments, all in perfect drawing, which he sometimes paints in black or inlays with ebony and ivory, all of which is executed with the greatest skill, rendering them worthy of the exalted personages to whom they are intended to be presented. I have thought proper, therefore, to mention some works of this great master, in testimony of the high esteem and universal admiration which he enjoys." These prefatory remarks of Arisi are followed by several important statements, which I have arranged in accordance with the different periods it will be necessary to refer to in the course of this notice. [Footnote 17: Mention is made by Lancetti that in the year 1820 the Marquis Carlo dal Negro, of Genoa, possessed a Harp bearing the name of Stradivari. Mandolines and other stringed instruments have been seen with his name attached.] "In the year 1682, on the 8th of September, the banker Michele Monzi, of Venice, sent him an order for the whole set of Violins, Altos, and Violoncellos which that gentleman sent as a present to King James of England."[18] The interesting remarks of Arisi with regard to the inlaid instruments of Stradivari are those we should expect from an admirer of delicate artistic work, who possessed no special knowledge of Violins as instruments of music. The existence of some of the instruments to which he refers, together with the tracings of the actual designs and the tools with which the work was accomplished, render his observations, read at this distance of time, peculiarly pleasing. The possessor of the models, tools, labels, and drawings used by Stradivari is the Marquis Dalla Valle, of Casale, to whom they passed by inheritance from his great-uncle, Count Cozio, who purchased them in 1775. [Footnote 18: These instruments were probably sent to England in 1685, or later.] [Illustration: THE HOUSE OF STRADIVARI, WEST SIDE, PIAZZA ROMA, CREMONA.] Vincenzo Lancetti, referring to the collection, after mention of Stradivari having been buried in the Church of S. Domenico, continues, "As appears from the correspondence held in 1775, by the said Count Cozio with Antonio's son Paolo Stradivari, cloth merchant, when the former bought of the latter all the remaining Violins, the forms, the patterns, moulds, and drawings of the said celebrated Antonio, as well as those of the Amati, with which he enriched his collection." In an article published in the "Gazzetta Piedmontese," October, 1881, upon the occasion of the exhibition, at Milan, of the relics of the shop of Stradivari, the writer gives the following account of the negotiations: "Count Cozio, a great patron, intimate with the greatest artists of the period, especially with Rolla, purchased, through the instrumentality of the firm of merchants, Anselmi di Briata, from Paolo and Antonio junior, respectively son and nephew of Antonio Stradivari, in 1776, all the tools, drawings, labels, &c., which had been used by the celebrated Violin-maker, and his heirs, who were desirous that nothing belonging to him should remain in his native town, as it is inferred, from a curious document, hastened to conclude the sale."[19] It is certain, however, that Lancetti received his information from the Count himself, and negotiations were certainly carried on between Paolo and the Count, either directly or through his agents, Anselmi di Briata. [Footnote 19: Upon reference to the copy of this document (the correspondence is given in the fourth edition of this work), I find the words used by Paolo Stradivari to his correspondents Anselmi di Briata run, after commenting upon the price offered, "However, to show my desire to please you, and in order that not a single thing belonging to my father be left in Cremona, &c.," having reference, possibly, to some supposed feeling of indifference on the part of the municipal authorities towards the memory of Antonio Stradivari, they not having secured the moulds, patterns, &c.] The contents of the letters of Paolo and Antonio Stradivari junior, which the Marquis Dalla Valle has placed at my disposal, serve to explain the two different accounts above given. We find that the Count had two distinct transactions, directly or indirectly, with the family of Stradivari. In 1775 he purchased the ten instruments made by Antonio which remained out of ninety-one (complete and partly finished) left by the maker at the time of his death in 1737. The payment in connection with this transaction was arranged by the banker Carlo Carli, which gave rise to the inventory upon which M. Fetis based his statement as to the age of Stradivari. In the month of May, 1776, negotiations were entered upon with Paolo Stradivari, relative to the tools, which led to their being sold. During their progress Paolo died, October, 1776, and the business was left for his son Antonio to complete in December, 1776. The copies of the letters written by Paolo and Antonio Stradivari are given in the fourth edition of this work, and the chief part of the matter therein is referred to in the Section, "The Violin and its Votaries." The next period to be noticed relative to the work of Stradivari is that dating from 1686 to 1694. We here observe a marked advance in every particular. The form is flatter, the arching differently treated. The sound-hole, which is a masterpiece of gracefulness, reclines more. The curves of the middle bouts are more extended than in this maker's later instruments. The corners are brought out, though not prominently so. Here, too, we notice the change in the formation of the scroll. He suddenly leaves the form that he had hitherto imitated, and follows the dictates of his own fancy. The result is bold and striking, and foreshadows much of the character belonging to the bodies of the instruments of his latter period, and though it may seem daring and presumptuous criticism, I have often been impressed with the idea that these scrolls would have been more in harmony with his later works than those to which they belong. The varnish on the instruments belonging to the period under consideration is very varied. Sometimes it is of a rich golden colour, deliciously soft and transparent; in other instances he has used varnish of a deeper hue, which might be described as light red, the quality of which is also very beautiful. The purfling is a trifle wider, but narrower than that afterwards used. From the, Arisi MSS. we have the following interesting information relative to this period:-- "In the year 1685, on the 12th of March, Cardinal Orsini, Archbishop of Benevento,[20] ordered a Violoncello and two Violins, which were sent as a present to the Duke of Natalona, in Spain. The Cardinal, besides paying liberally for the work, wrote an appreciative acknowledgment of their merits, and appointed the artist to the place of one of his private attendants." It may be remarked that the honour conferred upon Stradivari was equivalent to appointing him maker to the Archbishop. [Footnote 20: Vincenzo Maria Orsini (of the illustrious family of the Orsinis, Dukes of Gravina), born 1648, in the Neapolitan province of Bari, was a learned professor of theology, and visited, between 1668 and 1672, several cities and towns, among others Naples, Bologna, Venice, Brescia, and most likely Cremona, where he held conferences, which were largely attended. He was created a Cardinal by Clement X., in 1672, Archbishop in 1675 in Manfredonia, in 1680 to Cesena, in 1686 to Benevento and Porto. In 1724 he was elected Pope, under the name of Benedict XIII., and remained on the Pontifical throne until February, 1730, when he died, aged eighty-one.] "In the same year, on the 12th of September, Bartolomeo Grandi, called Il Fassina, leader of the Court Orchestra of His Royal Highness the Duke of Savoy,[21] ordered of Stradivari a whole set of instruments for the Court Orchestra." [Footnote 21: Victor Amadeus II., Duke of Savoy and King of Sardinia, was the Prince for whom Bartolomeo Grandi ordered the concerto of instruments.] "In the year 1686, on the 5th of April, His Serene Highness the Duke of Modena (Francesco II. D'Este was then twenty-six years of age) ordered a Violoncello, which, by special invitation, Stradivari was requested to take to the Duke himself, who told him how pleased he was to make his personal acquaintance, praised greatly his work, and beyond the sum agreed paid him thirty pistoles (golden Spanish) as a present." On the 22nd of August, 1686, Marquis Michele Rodeschini ordered a Viol da Gamba to be sent to King James II. of England. In the year 1687 he made the set of instruments for the Spanish Court, inlaid with ivory, and having a beautiful scroll work running round the sides and scroll. Arisi evidently refers to this event in the following extract: "On the 19th of January, 1687, the Marquis Niccolo Rota ordered a Violoncello for the King of Spain." One of the Violins of this set was purchased in Madrid about thirty years since by Ole Bull. The Tenor belonging to this quatuor has lost its ivory work, a blemish which is to be regretted. He also made, about this period, some very small Violins with similar designs, instruments evidently made to order. "On the 7th of August of the same year, 1687, the nobleman Don Agostino Daria, General-in-Chief of the Spanish Cavalry in Lombardy, while he was residing in Cremona, obtained from him a Violoncello." We now reach the year 1690, in connection with which Arisi has supplied information of singular interest. He says: "On the 19th of September, 1690, Stradivari received the following letter from the Marquis Bartolommeo Ariberti,[22] a Cremonese nobleman--'The other day I made a present of the two Violins and the Violoncello which you made for me to His Highness the Prince of Tuscany;[23] and I assure you, to my great satisfaction, he has accepted them with such pleasure that more I could not expect. The members of his orchestra--and he possesses a select number--were unanimous in expressing their great appreciation, declaring the instruments quite perfect, and, above all, exclaiming with one voice that they had never heard a Violoncello with such an agreeable tone. For the highly flattering reception with which my present has been received by His Highness, and which I cannot sufficiently describe, I am principally indebted to the care which you have used in the manufacture of the instruments. At the same time I hope to have by this present shown you my appreciation, and of having acquired the merit of practically bringing to the knowledge of such a personage the truth of your great skill, which will procure you, undoubtedly, many orders from this exalted house. To prove this, I have now to request you to begin at once two Tenors, one _Tenor_ and the other _Contralto_, which are wanted to complete the concerto.'"[24] [Footnote 22: The Marquis of Ariberti was born in 1666, and died 1724. He was an elegant writer, and a member of several literary academies. He was for some time in Tuscany. Upon returning to Cremona, where he settled, he built in 1687, at his own expense, a theatre called after his own name, Ariberti. He, being a passionate lover of music, was anxious to have in his own establishment (the theatre adjoining his palace) a place of amusement for himself and his family. About the year 1710 he gave up the building to a religious brotherhood, and a church was built on the site, and used until 1798, when the brotherhood was suppressed, and, by a singular coincidence, the building was bought in 1801 by a society of dramatic authors, and again opened as a theatre, which still exists, and is called Teatro Filodrammatico. The Marquis Ariberti was appointed by Joseph I., Emperor of Austria, to the title of Lieutenant-Marshal; he was a member of the High Council of State in Milan. He was buried in the church, which, as above mentioned, was afterwards used as a theatre. (_See_ Lancetti, "Biografia Cremonese," I vol., Milano, 1819.)] [Footnote 23: Cosimo III. de Medici.] [Footnote 24: A chest of Viols, Mace tells us, in his "Musick's Monument," 1676, consisted of two Basses, two Tenors, and two Trebles. A Concerto of Violins in Italy, according to the letter of Ariberti, consisted of one Bass, two Tenors (Contralto and Tenor) and two Violins. The term "Concerto" was introduced at the beginning of the 17th century, in connection with sacred music in parts. These compositions were called Church Concertos. Towards the end of the 17th century compositions were introduced for instruments called Chamber Concertos.] In the collection of relics of the great master, in the possession of the Marquis Dalla Valle, there are some items which appear to be connected with this most interesting letter: I refer to the designs for a case, or cases, for a concerto of instruments dated 1684, which Stradivari himself describes as being for the Grand Duke of Florence. The date upon these designs is indicative of the order for the Violins and the Violoncellos having been given in that year (1684) by the Marquis Ariberti, who at the same time gave certain instructions as to cases and armorial designs. The completion of the order, however, appears to have been delayed, and the instruments were not delivered until 1690. The instructions given in the above letter to Stradivari to complete the concerto by making the Tenors (the patterns of which are among those in the possession of the Marquis Dalla Valle, signed, and dated 1690), and the existence of the Violoncello and one of the Tenors at Florence, dated 1690, are confirmatory of the opinion that the order was executed in 1690. The following inscription, under the left shoulder or side, is in the Tenor: "Prima 20 Ottobre 1690 per S. A. Da Fiorenza." It is interesting to find that the Grand Duke also possessed a Stradivari Violin, dated 1716, which is in Florence, together with the instruments above referred to. It is therefore evident that the belief of the Marquis that Stradivari would receive further orders from the Grand Duke was realised. Between the years 1690 and 1700 Stradivari made, together with the form of instrument just described, that known to connoisseurs as the "long Strad." We have here quite a differently constructed instrument; it is less graceful, although there is no absence of the masterly hand throughout the work. It has received the title of "long Strad" from its increased length, as the name would imply.[25] [Footnote 25: The usual length measurements of the various patterns are as under:-- (1) "Amatise," 13-7/8 inches. (2) "Long Strad," 14-1/8 (occasionally 14-1/4) inches. (3) "Grand pattern," 14 to 14-1/16 inches.--EDITORS.] Fortified with the experience which the variously constructed instruments referred to had enabled him to gather, he would seem to have marshalled all his forces in order to enter on an entirely new campaign, one that should be alike glorious to himself and his art. That he succeeded in achieving all that he could have desired, my readers will have an opportunity of judging by the evidence I propose to offer. It was about the year 1700 when Stradivari entered upon a new era in his art. All his past labours appear to have been only measures preliminary to that which he proposed afterwards to accomplish, and were made for the purpose of testing, to the minutest degree, the effect of particular modifications in the form and thickness of his works. If we stay to consider for a moment the field of research traversed by Stradivari before entering upon what may be not inaptly named the golden period of his life, artistically considered, we shall be better enabled to appreciate his labours. Starting from the days when he left the workshop of Niccolo Amati, we find him following implicitly in the footsteps of his master. About 1686 he makes use of the more commendable points belonging to the works of former years, adding others of great beauty and utility. At this period he begins to make his originality felt, continuing in this vein, with but little intermission, down to about the year 1690, when he again gives forth fresh evidence of his power to create, as shown in the "long Strad." In expending his powers on those instruments of varied proportions, it might occur to the mind of the observer that he was undoing much that he had accomplished; but I do not consider that such was the case. His project in making these instruments _together_ with those of larger dimensions, evidences, in my opinion, a desire that he had of fairly testing the result of changed methods of construction. The marked variety of his work about this period of his life, I cannot but regard as sufficient proof of the tentative character of the steps he was taking in his art. From this brief summary of the varied styles given to the works of this true artist, the reader may gather some idea of the solidity of the foundation which he laid, before trusting himself to raise those works which have become monuments to his memory. That which I have termed the golden period of Stradivari, commenced about 1700, at which time he reached his 56th year: a time of life when it is a rare occurrence to find genius asserting itself with any degree of power--a time, if not of waning, at least of resting, when the mind usually stays from giving forth originality bearing the freshness of earlier years; but Stradivari, with a few other notable instances in the field of art, forms an exception to this rule, and he proves to us that his talent was then in its full vigour, and ripe for new achievements. George Eliot's fancy well contrasts the painter Naldo-- "Knowing all tricks of style at thirty-one, And weary of them; while Antonio At sixty-nine _wrought placidly his best_." From about 1700 his instruments show to us much of that which follows later. The outline is changed, but the curves, blending one with another, are beautiful in the extreme. The corners are treated differently. The wood used for the backs and sides is most handsome, having a broad curl. The scrolls are of bold conception, and finely executed. The varnish also is very rich, and leaves nothing to be desired. It is not possible to convey to the reader, by means of mere description, anything approaching an adequate notion of the surpassing gracefulness of the entire work of this epoch. The eye must be made the channel to the mind. If the work is present, then, with the aid which these remarks will afford, the reader may gain, by careful study, much valuable insight into the beauties and genius of this famous artist, together with much useful information. But during this period of his maturity, even, we find that Stradivari did not absolutely confine himself to making instruments as near as possible alike; on the contrary, it is easy to point out certain variations, the meaning of which he doubtless well understood. We find him guided throughout this period by his usual ideas as regards grandeur of outline and degrees of thickness; but the rotundity of the model, the shape that he gave to the sound-hole, the method of setting the sound-hole in the instrument, although, as before remarked, all executed with a breadth of purpose which his earlier efforts fail to show, may be cited as points in which he varied. I have no hesitation in hazarding an explanation of the reasons that prompted him to these differences of construction. It is my firm conviction that these great makers had certain guiding principles as regards the nature and qualities of the wood they used, and that Stradivari, in particular, made the subject a special study. If this be granted, I do not think there is any great difficulty in understanding the meaning of the differences pointed out. If Stradivari constructed his instruments upon philosophical principles, the chief element of variation in the treatment of any particular instrument must have been the difference of _quality_ in the material; it is evident that a method eminently successful when applied to wood of a certain texture and character, would ensure as eminent a failure if applied indiscriminately in all cases. To obtain wood sufficient for two bellies that should be alike in every particular is impossible, though cuttings should be made from the same piece; and we find that the more the material varies in its nature, so much the greater the variations--a fact which helps the view advanced considerably. In another place I have stated that scarcity of sycamore in the days of these old makers is impossible to understand, but scarcity of a particular _kind_ of sycamore is easy to comprehend. He might have had a cartload of wood handsome in appearance; but handsome wood combined with acoustical properties he deemed needful, was another matter. With what extraordinary care he permitted himself to use the lovely wood he did possess! There are several instances where he has used, during one year, four or five distinct cuttings of wood, more particularly as regards the sycamore. These several cuttings include often the handsomest and the plainest. A year or so later we find him again making use of wood from the same cuttings, which proves satisfactorily that he did not work up one piece before commencing with another. He would seem to have kept back the handsomest wood for certain important commissions. I have seen three Stradivari Violins of 1714, with backs having but little figure, yet this was the year in which he made the "Dolphin," which is regarded by the chief connoisseurs in Europe as a _chef-d'oeuvre_ of Stradivari. From the days when it was in the possession of the Marquis de la Rosa to the present time, its beauty has excited the admiration of the Fiddle world. The splendour of the wood is unsurpassed in any Violin, ancient or modern, and it was named the "Dolphin" from the richness and variety of the tints it gives to the varnish. The model is perfection; its solidity of construction and glorious varnish all tend to make it unique. Its beauty is of a kind that does not require the eye of the skilled connoisseur to recognise it; it causes those to exclaim whose knowledge is limited to being aware that it is a Fiddle. His making this superb work of art in the same year in which he made instruments having wood quite opposite in figure, bears out, I consider, what I have before stated, viz., that Stradivari jealously guarded the material he possessed having both handsome figure and valuable acoustical properties. Mr. Charles Reade says of these "Strads": "When a red Stradivari Violin is made of soft, velvety wood, and the varnish is just half worn off the back in a rough triangular form, that produces a certain beauty of light and shade which is, in my opinion, the _ne plus ultra_. These Violins are rare; I never had but two in my life." [Illustration: _Plate XII_. GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESU. 1738. (B. SINSHEIMER, ESQ.) THE "DOLPHIN" STRAD. Date 1714. ANTONIO STRADIVARI. 1718. (W. S. McMILLAN, ESQ.)] It is conceivable that a manufacture so successful as Violin-making proves itself to have been in Italy during the seventeenth and part of the eighteenth centuries, should give rise to scientific inquiry, in order to discover the reason of the excellence of the best Italian instruments, and, if possible, the principles or laws which guided the makers in the exercise of their genius. That investigations of this character should be attended with important results in connection with the science of acoustics, is to be expected. As to laws or principles of a scientific character, I doubt whether such were recognised or understood when the excellence of the manufacture was greatest, believing that Violin makers of the order of Stradivari must be like poets, "born artificers, not made." The chief merits of Stradivari and his contemporary makers were intuitive. Their rules, having their origin in experience, were applied as dictated by their marvellous sense of touch and cunning, with results infinitely superior to any obtained with the aid of the most approved mechanical contrivances. When to these considerations we add that devotedness of purpose, without which nothing really great in art has been accomplished, we have a catalogue of excellences sufficient to account for the greatness of their achievements. Turning again to the manuscript of Arisi, we find that "On the 12th of May, 1701, Don Antonio Cavezudo, leader of the private orchestra of King Charles II. of Spain, wrote a highly complimentary letter to Stradivari from Madrid, assuring him that though he had received bow instruments from several makers, for different courts, yet he had never been able to obtain them of such a refined and beautiful tone as those made by him." Arisi adds that Don Antonio Cavezudo was also in the service of the Duke of Anjou. M. Fetis, in his notice of Stradivari,[26] remarks: "The life of Antonio Stradivari was as tranquil as his calling was peaceful. The year 1702, alone, must have caused him much disquiet, when, during the war concerning the succession, the city of Cremona was taken by Marshal Villeroy, retaken by Prince Eugene, and finally taken a third time by the French; but after that period Italy enjoyed a long tranquillity, in which the old age of the artist glided peacefully away." [Footnote 26: "Notice of Anthony Stradivari," by F. J. Fetis, translated by John Bishop. 1864.] A campaign had taken place in Italy in 1701, when Prince Eugene, with thirty thousand troops, out-generalled Catinat, the able French commander, giving Louis XIV. the opportunity of placing the empty and presumptuous Villeroy in command. Prince Eugene had greatly harassed the French in Italy, when, in the night of February 1, 1702, he surprised the French garrison of Cremona, and, though momentarily successful, "missed the town," as Eugene said, "by a quarter of an hour," but carried off the Commander-in-Chief, Villeroy, which the popular song-writers of the day construed into "a double gain to France"--Cremona saved, and Villeroy lost. It is conceivable that Stradivari, together with his fellow-citizens, witnessed during the year 1702 more of the pomp of war than was agreeable. The blowing of trumpets, the beating of drums, and other martial sounds, would be music not likely to touch pleasantly the ears of Stradivari, apart from the discomfort attendant on military occupation. He, however, appears to have practised his art with undiminished zeal, judging from the following interesting information given by Arisi. He says: "Stradivari made a complete set of bow instruments, which he intended to present to Philip V. of Spain, on the occasion of the passage of the King through Cremona; and he had prepared a memorial to that effect; but he was dissuaded, and the instruments are still in his possession." No date is supplied with regard to the events above named; we are therefore left to assign the period when the presentation was to have taken place by reference to other sources of information. In an official diary of the journey of Philip V. to Italy[27] it appears that the King arrived in Lombardy on the 10th of June, 1702, and that from Milan he went to Lodi on the 1st of July, and made his entry into Cremona two days later, July the 3rd, at one o'clock in the afternoon. Philip remained several days in the town, receiving visits from the Dukes of Parma and of Mantua, and held there several councils of war with the generals of the allied armies (Spanish and French), and appears to have left Cremona on the 20th of July for the seat of war near Mantua. After the victories of Luzzara and Guastalla, the King passed again through Cremona, arriving there on the 3rd of October, staying one night, and leaving the following day for Milan. On this occasion there was much festivity on account of the victories, and the King distributed sums of money and presents for the wounded, the officers, and the generals. It would therefore appear that Stradivari purposed presenting the instruments to Philip either in July or October, 1702. The condition of affairs at Cremona at this period apparently serves to explain the cause of Stradivari having been dissuaded from presenting the instruments. [Footnote 27: Contained in the work of Don A. de Ubilla y Medina, Marquis de Ribas, entitled, "Succession de el Rey D. Philipe V.'; Diario de sus Viages, &c." Madrid, 1704, fol.] "On the 10th of November, 1702, the Marquis Giovanni Battista Toralba, General of Cavalry and Governor of Cremona, sent for Stradivari, and, after complimenting him on his peculiar genius, ordered two Violins and a Violoncello, which were afterwards sent as a present to the Duke of Alba. "In the year 1707, the Marquis Desiderio Cleri wrote to Stradivari, by order of King Charles III. of Spain, from Barcelona, ordering for the royal orchestra six Violins, two Tenors, and one Violoncello." This extract refers to the Archduke Charles of Austria, afterwards Emperor Charles VI. Charles III., aided by the British fleet, occupied Barcelona in 1706. We have, therefore, the interesting facts that Stradivari made a complete set of instruments which he intended to present to Philip V., and that he was afterwards commissioned to make another set for Philip's opponent, the Archduke. Lorenzo Giustiniani, a Venetian nobleman, wrote to Stradivari the following letter, which he received July 7, 1716:-- "Venice, Giustiniani Palace, "Campiello dei Squellini. "It is generally known that there is not at the present time in the world a more skilled maker of musical instruments than yourself; and as I wish to preserve a record of such an illustrious man and famous artist, I trouble you with this letter, to ask whether you feel disposed to make me a Violin, of the highest quality and finish that you can bestow upon it." The following extract from Arisi's manuscript brings us to the end of the interesting information therein contained in reference to the subject of this notice, and amply justifies the closing words of the author, who says: "From what I have written it may be seen how great is the excellence of Stradivari's art." "In 1715, on the 10th of June, Giovanni Battista Voleme, director of the private orchestra of the King of Poland, arrived in Cremona, by special order of the King, to await the completion of twelve Violins, which had been ordered of Stradivari, and he remained here three months; and when all the instruments were ready, he took them with him to Poland." Arisi doubtless refers to the Belgian musician Jean Baptiste Volumier, who was musical director to Augustus, Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, famous as a patron of music and the arts. It was Augustus who appointed Francesco Maria Veracini as his solo Violinist in 1720, and on the title-page of the charming Sonatas of Veracini we read-- "Dedicata a sua Altezza Reale, il Serenissimo Principe Reale di Pollonia et Elettorale di Sassonia. Francesco Maria Veracini Fiorentino Compositore di Camera di sua Maesta." The blending of the names of Stradivari, Augustus, and Veracini, serves to carry our thoughts into channels overflowing with interesting musical records. Voleme (Volumier) is said to have taken the instruments from Cremona to Poland. It would therefore appear that the Royal Orchestra was then stationed at Warsaw, the Court Musicians having to divide their time between that city and Dresden. In these capitals Jean Baptiste Volumier directed the music of the Elector Augustus from the year 1706 to 1728. Veracini was appointed solo Violinist in 1720 to Augustus, and the instruments which Stradivari made for the King were, therefore, only five years old. Though new, their tones were doubtless rich and beautiful. Veracini, it may be assumed, saw, heard, and played upon these comparatively new Stradivari Violins. He, however, whilst fully alive to their sterling merits, played, in all probability, upon his Stainers, which he named "St. Peter" and "St. Paul," with more pleasure, from their being thoroughly matured. The order given by Augustus to Stradivari, and the King's determination to have it executed, throws a strong side-light on the lofty position held by Stradivari as a maker of Violins. It also appears to furnish, in some measure, an explanation of the length of time he took to execute the order given by the Marquis Ariberti. We have here an artist of European celebrity, who was incapable of executing indifferent work. Commissions flowed from the chief courts faster than they could be executed. The genius of Stradivari could not but be true to itself. He scorned to sacrifice quality at the shrine of quantity. His patrons had, therefore, to wait patiently for their instruments, though it might be for years. The Elector of Saxony was evidently resolved upon securing his Violins, and it cannot be denied that the measures he adopted to accomplish his purpose did credit to his perseverance, and reflected honour on the Raphael of Violin-making. Passing to the last period of this great maker, we enter upon the consideration of a set of instruments very distinct from those of an earlier date, and which have given rise to a great divergence of opinion. Some have gone to the extent of denying the authenticity of these works, as far as they relate to Stradivari; others, again, admit that portions of these instruments are from his hand, and finished by his sons or Carlo Bergonzi. There are, doubtless, many exceedingly crude-looking instruments passing under his name, bearing dates ranging from 1730 to 1737, in the making of which he has taken no part; but, on the other hand, to deny that there are any works of Stradivari having these dates is to deny established facts. He must be an ill-informed judge of Violins who fails to recognise the hand of the master in several splendid specimens of this period. The rich oil varnish with which they are covered is precisely the same in quality as that found upon the instruments belonging to other periods, and which he used without exception throughout his career. It is, perhaps, laid on less carefully, and its colour is more varied. In some instances it is brown, and in others light red, the tone of colour varying according to the number of coats. He seems to have used, generally, more varnish upon these instruments than on his earlier ones. The thickness of the coats is seen in those parts (on the back in particular) where the varnish is worn and broken, caused, in all cases, by the shoulder of the player and the lining of the case upon which the back rests. It must be borne in mind that Stradivari had reached a great age when he made these instruments, and he evidently felt proud of his ability to continue his artistic labours after passing his ninetieth year, from the number of Violins wherein, in his own handwriting, he proclaimed himself a nonagenarian. It would not be reasonable to expect to find so high a finish as in the instruments made from 1700 to 1725, but even in these there is a finish distinct from that of either his sons or Bergonzi. But, beyond this, there is recognisable the splendid form, the masterly scroll, and the perfect sound-hole. To say that Omobono Stradivari, Francesco Stradivari, or Carlo Bergonzi had any share in these notable works, evidences hasty judgment, if not ignorance of the style of those makers to whom these instruments are attributed. The work of Carlo Bergonzi is now pretty well understood; in England, particularly, we have some glorious specimens. I need only ask the unbiassed connoisseur if he can reconcile one of these instruments with those of Stradivari of the period named. I have no hesitation in saying that there is not a single feature in common. The work of the sons of Stradivari is less known, but it is as characteristic as that of Bergonzi, and quite as distinct from that of their father, if not _more_ so. The outline is rugged, the modelling distinct, the scroll a ponderous piece of carving, quite foreign to Stradivari the elder, and the varnish, though good, is totally different from the superb coats found on the father's works of late date. The division of the work of Stradivari into periods makes the reader more acquainted with the maker's style. It must be remembered, however, that he did not strictly confine himself to making instruments wholly of one pattern at any time, although he certainly did so with but few exceptions until the last period, when, as Lancetti rightly observes, he used more frequently his earlier patterns. The exact spot where Stradivari was buried was made known by the researches of Signor Sacchi, a Cremonese conversant with the annals of his native city.[28] This was an interesting addition to the meagre information previously handed down to us touching Stradivari. It had long been known that a family grave was purchased by Stradivari in the church of San Domenico, in the year 1729: but in the certificates from the Cathedral of Cremona it is stated that he was buried in the tomb of Francesco Villani, no mention being made of San Domenico. The exact words are, "_Buried in the Chapel of the Rosary, in the parish of St. Matthew_." The omission of the name of the church wherein this chapel stood has led to the belief that the precise spot where the mortal remains of Stradivari rest was unknown. Signor Sacchi finds that the historians of Cremona (but especially Panni, in his "Report on the Churches of Cremona, 1762") mention that the Church of San Domenico was in the parish of St. Matthew, and that the only chapel known by the name of "The Rosary" was the third on the right, entering the Church of San Domenico. [Footnote 28: "The Orchestra" of July 15, 1870, contains a notice relative to the circumstance, entitled "The Tomb of Stradivari."] An important point is mentioned by the historian above quoted, viz., that about the year 1720 the Parish Church of St. Matthew being judged too full to allow of further burials in its interior, the Church of San Domenico (its subsidiary church) was chosen as a place of burial for the parishioners, for which purpose it was used down to about 1780, and that Stradivari purchased there the grave mentioned. This statement is confirmed by the autograph letter of Count Cozio di Salabue, of Casale Monferato, Piedmont. [Illustration: 1. Church of S. Domenico. 2. Chapel of the Rosary. 3. Tomb of Stradivari. 4. Church of St. Matthew (since 1820 the Post Office, the church having been profaned in 1808 by the French). 5. Convent of the Dominican Friars. 6. House of Stradivari. 7. House of Bergonzi. 8. House of Guarneri. 9. Tower of the Church of S. Domenico. 10. The Sacristy. 11. Shop of Ruggeri (Via dei Coltellai). 12-13. Shop of Amati. 14. Shop of Storioni, and afterwards that of Ceruti.] The Church of San Domenico was, in consequence of its decayed condition, demolished about the year 1870. Becoming aware of what was taking place, I gave instructions that a photograph should be taken of the chapel in which the body of Stradivari was interred. This was accomplished whilst the workmen were in the act of levelling the structure, and it has been engraved on wood for the purpose of insertion in this volume. The stone with the inscription "Sepolcro di Antonio Stradivari E Svoi Eredi Anno 1729," which served to denote the spot where the body was buried, is now preserved in the Town Hall of Cremona. Signor Sacchi remembered it having been placed in the corner, close to the steps and iron railing inside the third chapel on the right, in the Church of San Domenico. M. Fetis says of Stradivari, "We know but little respecting that uneventful existence. Polledro, late first Violin at the Chapel Royal of Turin, who died a few years ago, at a very advanced age, declared that his master had known Stradivari, and that he was fond of talking about him. He was, he said, tall and thin, habitually wore, in winter, a cap of white wool, and one of cotton in summer. He wore over his clothes an apron of white leather when he worked, and as he was always working, his costume scarcely ever varied. He had acquired more than competency by labour and economy, for the inhabitants of Cremona were accustomed to say, 'As rich as Stradivari!'"[29] The house he occupied stands in the Piazza Roma, formerly called the Square of San Domenico, in the centre of which was the church of the same name. The house is still in good condition, and is the principal place of interest in the old city of Cremona to the many admirers of Stradivari who visit the seat of Violin-making in olden times. After the death of Stradivari it was occupied by his sons Omobono and Francesco; and afterwards by the maker's youngest son, Paolo, who carried on there the business of a cloth merchant. Stradivari worked on the ground floor, and used the upper storey for varnishing. [Footnote 29: "Notice of Anthony Stradivari."] It is somewhat singular that the Cremonese take but little apparent interest in the matter, and have expressed themselves as being astonished at the demonstrations of respect which their French and English visitors pay to the hallowed spot. The better-informed Cremonese have some acquaintance with the name of Stradivari; but to create any enthusiasm among them from the fact of his having been a Cremonese, or from the historical associations which connect him with that city, would be difficult. After the exercise of considerable patience and determination, Signor Sacchi, in conjunction with a few Cremonese, managed to raise sufficient enthusiasm among the inhabitants to permit the authorities to name a street after Stradivari, and another after Amati. This worthy act was performed by the late librarian, Professor Pietro Fecit, who aided Signor Sacchi in his researches in connection with the past of Cremona's Violin-makers. This street-naming was much opposed at the time. The citizens of Cremona are, however, not quite singular in this respect. It has been remarked that our American friends show far greater interest in Stratford-upon-Avon and its memories than we ourselves do. I must confess that I have great respect for the genuine enthusiast. The Cremonese have scarcely an idea of the extent of veneration with which we admirers of the art regard their illustrious citizen. They will be astonished to hear that "Stradivari" forms the Christian name of some Englishmen. A well-known dealer, some years since, determined to commemorate his admiration for the great maker, and, accordingly, named his descendant "Stradivari Turner." We have stepped out of the ordinary path of house nomenclature, and have adopted the cherished name of "Stradivari" to the bewilderment of the passer-by, whose unmusical soul fails to be impressed by it. To crown our seeming eccentricities (in the eyes of our Italian friends), I may mention that the magic name has found its way into circles where little interest is taken in the subject of this notice, judging from the following announcement, which appeared in the profane pages of a newspaper: "_Waterloo Purse.--E. Mr. Goodlake's Gilderoy beat Earl of Stair's Stradivarius, and won the Purse;_" the result showing that Stradivari was evidently out of place in such company. STRADIVARI, Francesco, Cremona, 1720-43. Franciscus Stradivarius Cremonensis Filius Antonii faciebat Anno 1742 Son of Antonio Stradivari. Worked with his brother Omobono for several years. Many of the later works of Antonio Stradivari have been attributed to his sons. The character of the work is wholly distinct. I can well understand the error of attributing the instruments of Francesco Stradivari to Carlo Bergonzi, there being many points in common, but that so many marked specimens of the works of Antonio should be deemed apocryphal is beyond my comprehension. The work of Francesco is altogether less finished, but at the same time it shows the hand of the master. The design is bold and original. The tone of Francesco's instruments is invariably rich and telling. Lancetti states--speaking of Francesco Stradivari--"After the death of his father, he made several Violins and Tenors, to which he put his own name. Although he did not succeed in perfectly imitating the works of his father, the instruments which he made in the years 1740 and 1742, and which remained after his death in the possession of his brother Paolo, were sold at the same price as those of his father, as mentioned in the correspondence between Count Cozio and Paolo. Francesco died at the end of 1742, the year Omobono died, and in which he made the Violins bought by Count Cozio." The date of death (as given by Lancetti), though incorrect by some months--he having died May 11, 1743, aged 72 years--shows the care and trouble taken to render the information as complete as possible, these dates having been given without reference to registers, but simply as stated by Paolo. STRADIVARI, Omobono, Cremona, 1742. Omobonus Stradivarius filius Antonii Cremone fecit, Anno 1740. Brother of Francesco. Lancetti remarks, "Omobono chiefly restored instruments and arranged and regulated them." Francesco, it will be seen, survived his brother about thirteen months, and with him, as with Girolamo Amati, the son of Niccolo, we reach the end of the family's long and historical career of Violin-making. Upon the death of Francesco, the shop in the Piazza San Domenico (now named Piazza Roma) was closed, after having been occupied by the family of Stradivari as Violin-makers for upwards of sixty-three years. From here were sent into cathedral, church, and royal orchestras the largest number of Violins and kindred instruments ever made by one maker--instruments which bore the indelible stamp of genius and have gladdened the sight and hearing of untold thousands. The famous shop, as previously noticed, was next opened by Paolo Stradivari, who was a cloth merchant or warehouseman. Paolo died in 1776, a year after the date of the correspondence which passed between him and Count Cozio di Salabue. Antonio, son of Paolo, born in 1738 and married in 1762, had a son Giacomo, born in 1769 and married in 1797. Cesare, the son of Giacomo, became a physician in Cremona, married in 1838, and left, as the representative of the Cremonese branch of the family, Dr. Libero Stradivari, a barrister-at-law and an excellent performer on the flute. SURSANO, Spirito, Coni, 1714-35. TANEGIA, Carlo Antonio, Milan, early in the 18th century. TANINGARD, Giorgio, Rome, 17--. TECCHLER, David, Rome, 1680-1743. David Tecchler Liutaro fecit Romae 17-- A highly esteemed maker. He worked in Venice, Salzburg, and Rome, chiefly in the latter city. His instruments vary in form, some having a marked German style: they are high-modelled, and the sound-hole partakes of the Stainer character. These were probably made in Salzburg, to the order of his patrons. Those instruments which date from Rome are chiefly of the Italian type, and are so much superior to the others that it seems difficult to reconcile varieties so distinct as the work of the same man. They are finely formed, have splendid wood, and rich varnish of a yellow tint; the bellies are of a mottled character, similar to those so much used by Niccolo Amati. His Violoncellos are among the finest of his instruments. They are mostly of a large size. TEDESCO, Leopoldo, pupil of Niccolo Amati. He went to Rome. I have seen a Violin of his make dated from there 1658. Workmanship a little rough, good varnish, Amati outline. TESTORE, Carlo Giuseppe, Milan, about 1690 to 1720. The form resembles that of Guarneri. The wood is often plain in figure. TESTORE, Carlo Antonio, Milan, about 1730 to 1764. Son of Giuseppe. Copied Guarneri and Amati. These instruments are bold and well made; their tone is excellent; wood often plain in figure. TESTORE, Giovanni, son of Carlo Antonio. TESTORE, Paolo Antonio, Milan, about 1740. Brother of Carlo Antonio. Copied Guarneri. The varnish is mostly yellow; frequently unpurfled. TIEFFENBRUCKER, Leonardo, Padua, 1587. Lute-maker. TODINI, Michele, seventeenth century, a native of Saluzzo, lived for many years at Rome. Todini was the inventor and maker of a great number of musical contrivances, in which clockwork played an important part. He occupied himself with this manufacture for several years, and turned his house into a kind of musical museum. He published in 1676 a pamphlet describing its contents. His name is associated with our subject in having adopted a new mode of stringing the Violono, or Double-Bass, by using four strings, and playing himself upon the instrument at oratorio performances in Rome. I have mentioned in Section I. that the Violono was originally used with several strings--five, six, or seven--and with frets. Todini is therefore credited with having introduced the method of stringing the Double Bass which led to the conversion of the old Violonos into Double-Basses fitted for modern requirements. TONONI, Carlo, Bologna. At the exhibition at Milan in 1881, an inlaid Kit, of beautiful workmanship, was exhibited of this maker. Carolo Tunonus fecit Bononiae in Platea Castaelionis Anno Domini 1698. TONONI, Carlo Antonio, Venice, born at Bologna, probably a son of the above. Carolus Tononi Bonon fecit Venetiis sub Titulo S. Cecilae Anno 1739. The model varies very much; those of the flat pattern are excellent instruments. They are large, and beautifully made. The varnish, though inferior to that of Santo Serafino, is similar. These Violins are branded above the tail-pin. His instruments date from about 1716. TONONI, Giovanni, about 1700. Similar characteristics. TONONI, Felice, Bologna. TONONI, Guido, Bologna. TOPPANI, Angelo de, Rome, about 1740. Scarce; workmanship resembles that of Tecchler. TORTOBELLO, Francesco, Rome, 16--. Maggini characteristics. TRAPANI, Raffaele, Naples, about 1800. Large pattern; flat model; purfling deeply laid; edges sharp; scroll heavy. VALENZANO, Gio. Maria, Rome, 1771 to about 1830. Neapolitan character; neat work; varnish excellent in some specimens, being soft and transparent. VETRINI, Battista, Brescia, about 1629. Yellow varnish of good quality; handsome wood; rather small. VIMERCATI, Paolo, Venice, about 1700. Similar to Tononi. Jacob Stainer is said to have worked in the shop of Vimercati. WENGER, Padua, Lute-maker, 1622. ZANNETTO, Pellegrino, Brescia, 1547. M. Chouquet in his "Catalogue Raisonne" of the instruments at the Conservatoire in Paris, describes a six-string Viol da Gamba of this make. ZANOLA, Giovanni Battista. Flat model; rough workmanship; German character. Joannes Baptista Zanola, Verona, 17-- ZANOLI, Giacomo, 1740-80. Verona. Worked in Venice, Padua, and Verona. Venetian character. ZANOTTI, Antonio, Mantua, about 1734. Antonius Zanotus, fecit Mantuae, anno 1734. ZANTI, Alessandro, Mantua, 1765. He copied Pietro Guarneri, but had little knowledge of varnishing, if we are to judge from the few instruments of this maker extant. ZANURE, Pietro, Brescia, 1509. A maker of Viols. ZENATTO, Pietro, Treviso, about 1634. Pietro Zenatto fece in Treviso Anno 1634. SECTION VII The French School The French have long occupied a foremost place in the production of articles needing delicate workmanship, and it is therefore not surprising that they should at an early period have turned their attention to the art of Violin-making, which requires in a high degree both skilful workmanship and artistic treatment. The French manufacture of Violins appears to have commenced about the same period as the English, viz., in the early part of the 17th century, Francois Medard and Tywersus being among the French makers, and Rayman and Wise their fellows in England. The primitive French makers, like their English brethren, copied the instruments made at Brescia and Cremona, to which course they adhered down to the days of Barak Norman, when the two nations parted company, as regards having a common type, the French continuing the path they had hitherto taken, and copying the Italians, with scarcely any deviation, to the present time. The English left the Italian form for the German one of Jacob Stainer, which they adopted, with but few exceptions, for nearly a century, recovering the Italian about the middle of the 18th century. It is remarkable that French makers should have restrained themselves from following the pattern of the famous German maker when his name was at its height and his instruments were in such demand. That in not adopting the then popular form they were rightly guided, experience has clearly demonstrated. When we scan the older works the French have left us, and consider the advantage they had in keeping to the Italian form, we cannot but feel disappointed in finding so few meritorious instruments among them. There appear to have been many makers who were quite unconcerned whether their instruments possessed merit becoming the productions of a true artist; their chief aim would seem to have been to make in dozens--in other words, quantity in place of quality. If the early French makers are carefully studied, it will be seen that Boquay, Pierray, and one or two of their pupils are the only makers deserving of praise. It must be admitted that the shortcomings of the makers of the first period were adequately supplied by those of the second period, which includes the king of French artists, Nicolas Lupot. The old French school, originating with Tywersus and Medard, includes the following makers: Nicolas Renault, of Nancy, Medard, also of Nancy, Dumesnil, Bertrand, Pierray, Boquay, Gavinies, Chappuy, Ouvrard, Paul Grosset, Despont, Saint-Paul, Salomon, Veron, with others of less importance. Many of these makers had a fair amount of ideas, which, had they been well directed, might have led to fame. Others contented themselves with copying, without giving any place to their fancy. It will be found that many of the instruments by Boquay, Pierray, and a few others, have varnish upon them closely resembling that of the Venetian school; it is full-bodied, very transparent, and rich in colour. Many of their works are covered with a very inferior quality of varnish, which has caused some confusion respecting the merit due to them as varnishers, they being frequently judged by their inferior instruments, without reference to their good ones. It is evident that they made two qualities of varnish, in accordance with the price they were to obtain, as was commonly done in England by the Forsters, Banks, and Wamsley, where similar confusion exists. The Italians happily avoided this objectionable practice. Their works are of one uniform quality in point of varnish. This divergence may possibly be accounted for by the difference of climate. In Italy, oil varnish, judiciously used, would dry rapidly, whereas in France or England the reverse would be the case; hence its more sparing use. We will now glance at the second French School of makers, commencing with De Comble. Learning his art in Italy, and, it is said, under Stradivari, he brought to bear a knowledge superior to that possessed by the makers mentioned above. The form he introduced was seen to be in advance of that hitherto met with among the French and Belgian makers, and led to its being chiefly followed. The next maker was Pique, who made Violins and Violas that were excellent in point of workmanship, and had he been equally successful in varnishing he would probably have been held in the same estimation as Nicolas Lupot. From these makers sprang quite a little school of its own, comprising Francois Gand, in Paris, who succeeded to the business of Lupot, and Bernardel, with several others less known. Mention must not be omitted of another excellent copyist--Silvestre, of Lyons. He has left some charming specimens of his art. They are lighter in character than the works of Nicolas Lupot, and resemble the work of Stradivari from 1680 to 1710. Every portion of the work evidences the skill and judgment of the maker. The wood, with scarcely an exception, has not been manipulated in order to darken it, consequently the instruments become of increasing merit as age acts upon them. The practice of preparing the wood for Violin-making, either by baking it or by the application of acids, may be traced, in the first instance, to a desire to obtain artificially those results which are brought about by the hand of time. In obtaining lightness and dryness in new wood, it was imagined that the object in view would be reached without the aid of Dame Nature. Experience, however, has shown that Fiddles, like all things intended to pass into green old age, mature gradually, and are not to be benefited by any kind of forcing process. The earliest account I have met with of Fiddle-baking occurred in England about 150 years since. One Jeacocke, a baker by trade, and a lover of music by nature, used to bake his Fiddles in sawdust for a week whenever their tones showed symptoms of not being up to his standard of quality. In France the practice may be said to have been introduced about eighty years ago, with a view of facilitating the creation of such mysteries as Duiffoprugcar and Morella Violins, baked and browned until they had something of a fifteenth-century hue. The same means were adopted in the production of instruments intended as copies of the works of Stradivari and Guarneri. The brown hue of the originals, and the worn and broken condition of the varnish which comes of age alone, were imitated with more or less ingenuity. Happily the error is recognised, as far as the best workmanship is concerned, in France. The legitimate imitator's art no longer includes that of depicting wear and brownness, rendering abortive so much excellent work. It only remains now to mention Salle, Vuillaume, Chanot, Gand, Germain, Mennegand, Gaillard, and Miremont, all copyists of more or less note, who may be said to complete the modern French school. These makers are or were the chief manufacturers of Violins in France of a better class. Those made by thousands yearly at Mirecourt are not Violins in the eyes of the connoisseur. They are made, as common cabinet work is produced in England, by several workmen, each taking a portion, one making the backs, another the sides, another the bellies, and so on with the other parts of the instrument, the whole being finally arranged by a finisher. Such work must necessarily be void of any artistic nature; they are like instruments made _in_ a mould, not _on_ a mould, so painfully are they alike. This Manchester of Fiddle-making has doubtless been called into being by the great demand for cheap instruments, and has answered thus far its purpose, but it has certainly helped to destroy the gallant little bands of makers who were once common in France, Germany, and England, among whom were men who were guided by reverential feelings for the art, irrespective of the gains they reaped by their labours. The number of instruments yearly made in Mirecourt and Saxony[1] amounts to many thousands, and is yearly increasing. They send forth repeated copies of Amati, Maggini, Guarneri, and Stradivari, all duly labelled and dated, to all parts of the world, frequently disappointing their simple-minded purchasers, who fondly fancy they have thus become possessed of the real article at the trifling cost of a few pounds. They produce various kinds of modern antiques in Violins, some of which display an amount of ingenuity worthy of being exercised in a better cause; but usually the whole thing is overdone, and the results, in point of tone, are far more disastrous than in the common French copies. The following list of French, Belgian, and Dutch makers contains many names not included in the first edition of this book. The works wherein several of these names occur are M. J. Gallay's, "Les Luthiers Italiens aux 17ieme et 18ieme Siecles," 1869; M. Fetis, "Biographie Universelle des Musiciens;" M. Vidal, "Les Instruments a Archet," 1876; the "Catalogue Raisonne," of the instruments at the Conservatoire, by Gustave Chouquet, Paris, 1875; "Recherches sur les facteurs de Clavecins," by M. le Chevalier de Burbure, Antwerp, 1863; Pougin's "Supplement to the Dictionary of Fetis;" and Mendel's "Musikalisches Conversations-Lexikon," 1880. [Footnote 1: Germany's yearly output of such instruments is enormous, the principal seats of manufacture being Mark-Neukirchen (Saxony) and Mittenwald (Bavaria).] SECTION VIII French Makers ALDRIC, Paris, 1790-1844. Copied Stradivari with great skill. He was also well known as a dealer in Cremonese instruments. He was one of the earliest French makers who dealt with Luigi Tarisio, the famous Italian connoisseur. He generally used a red varnish of good quality. ALLAR, ----, Paris, 1788. AMELOT, ----, Lorient; worked early in the present century. He used a highly ornamented label. AUBRY, ----, Paris, 1840. Succeeded his uncle Aldric, mentioned above. AUGIERE, ----, Paris, about 1830, was established in the Rue Saint Eustache, in partnership with Calot, and made some good instruments. Augiere formerly worked in the shop of Clement of Paris. BACHELIER, ----, Paris, 1788. BASSOT, ----, Paris, 1788. BERNARDEL, Auguste Sebastien Philippe, born at Mirecourt in 1802, was in the workshop of Lupot, in Paris. The instruments of this maker are excellently made, and the wood judiciously selected. He took his sons into partnership in 1859 and retired from business in 1866. He died in 1870. His sons, Ernst Auguste and Gustave Adolphe, were in partnership with Eugene Gand, and the firm was known as "Gand et Bernardel freres." BERTRAND, Nicolas, Paris, about 1700 to 1735, used varnish of a superior kind. He made many of the Viols of the type common in Paris, for some time after the Violin had been introduced; they were named Dessus-de-Viole, Pardessus, Quinton, and Viole-haut-contre. His name is often seen branded on the backs of his instruments, inside. BOIVIN, Claude, about 1749, Paris. M. Chouquet, in his "Catalogue Raisonne" of the instruments at the Paris Conservatoire, described a Guitar by this maker, made for a daughter of Louis XV. [Illustration: _Plate XIII_. ANTONIO STRADIVARI. 1702. ANTONIO STRADIVARI. 1722. ANTONIO STRADIVARI. 1703.] BOQUAY, Jacques, Paris, 1700-1730. Jacques Boquay, rue d'Argenteuil, a Paris, 1723. One of the first of the old French school. He, with a few of his contemporaries, inherited a good amount of the Italian character of workmanship, introduced probably into France by Nicolas Renault. Boquay, with others whose names are mentioned in this list of French makers, used varnish closely allied to that of Cremona; its colour is a warm brown, very transparent, and of a soft nature. He made many instruments of small size. The model is often that of Girolamo Amati, but slightly more arched; the sound-hole is more rounded and less striking. The scroll can scarcely be considered a copy of Girolamo Amati's; it is well cut, but lacks the peculiar grace of the Italian. The tone is sweet, without much power. BORLON, Artus or Arnold, about 1579, Antwerp, maker of stringed instruments (mentioned in the pamphlet by M. le Chevalier de Burbure). BORLON, or PORLON, Pierre, Antwerp, about 1647, of whom M. de Burbure says: "Pierre Borlon, or Porlon, made in the year 1647 a Double-Bass for the orchestra of the Cathedral (Antwerp). The instrument is in existence, and inside is the name 'Peeter Porlon tot, Antwerpen f. 1647.'" The same author mentions another early Double-Bass made in 1636 by Maitre Daniel for a chapel in Antwerp, and remarks, in passing, that in other countries the Double-Bass was not used until about half a century later. The question of priority in this matter is important and interesting; but in order to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion, it is necessary to be certain that these Belgian Basses are not, together with the Brescian and others, converted Viols. BORLON, Joannes, Antwerp, also a maker of Viols. BORLON, Francois, Antwerp, Viol-maker. BOULLANGIER, C., 1823-1888. Worked in Paris, and for the late Mr. Withers. Was in business for many years in Frith Street, Soho, and has made many excellent instruments. BOUMEESTER, Amsterdam, about 1650. BOURDET, Sebastien, Mirecourt, one of the earliest Violin-makers in Mirecourt. BOURDET, Jacques, Paris, 1751. BOUSSU, Eterbeck, le Bruxelles, about 1750. BRETON, 1777. This name is met with branded on the backs, "Breton a Paris." A little heavy in character, but fairly made; dark brown colour. BRETON, Le, Mirecourt, 1812-30. Commonplace instruments. Large pattern, usually stamped with name inside. BRUGERE, the name of several contemporary French makers, dating from Mirecourt and elsewhere. Some show good workmanship and varnish. CALOT, ----, about 1830. He was in the workshop of Clement prior to date given. _See_ AUGIERE. CASTAGNERY, Andrea. _See_ Italian list. CASTAGNERY, Jean Paul. M. Fetis mentions this maker as having worked in Paris, 1638-62. CHAMPION, Rene, Paris, about 1735. His instruments are well made, and the varnish is of good quality. CHANOT, Francois, born at Mirecourt in 1788. An engineer by profession. Becoming interested in the construction of Violins, he designed one having sides like those of the guitar. M. Chouquet describes a Violin of this maker, made for Viotti, and remarks that the experiment of Francois Chanot opened the way to those of Savart. The date of Chanot's patent is 1818. The paper of Savart on the construction of bow instruments was read at the French Academy in the following year. CHANOT, Georges, Paris. Brother of the above-named; born at Mirecourt, 1801. Throughout life was a most indefatigable worker. He has made a very large number of copies of Stradivari and Guarneri, chiefly of the former, which are also the best. They are well constructed instruments, and the wood is of an excellent description. He was long known as a dealer in Cremonese instruments, and many notable rarities passed into his possession. The instruments of this maker will, at no distant date, be valued higher than they are at the present time. He died in 1883. CHANOT, Georges, London. Son of Georges Chanot, Paris. Assisted Charles Maucotel, and a short time afterwards started in business on his own behalf. He died in 1893. CHANOT, F. Son of Georges Chanot. CHANOT, G. A. Brother of the above-named. CHAPPUY, Nicolas-Augustin, about 1765. His instruments are chiefly of large pattern; nearly all are branded on the button, in a similar manner to those of the Testore family. Chappuy differed greatly in his work. When he used plenty of wood we have instruments of a good kind and worthy of attention. There are many, however, having his brand that are scarcely fit to be called Violins, so inferior is the work and wood. The Violin M. Habeneck used during thirty-seven years, when instructing his class at the Conservatoire, Paris, was made by Chappuy, and is preserved at that institution. CHARDON, Joseph, Paris, son-in-law and pupil of Georges Chanot, Paris, to whose business he succeeded in the year 1872. CHAROTTE, ----, born at Mirecourt, settled at Rouen. Died in 1836. CHATERAIN, Paris, about 1759. Good workmanship. CHEVRIER, Andre-Augustin, about 1838. Born at Mirecourt, worked in Paris and Brussels. CLAUDOT, Charles, Paris, possibly came from Mirecourt. The workmanship is heavy; varnish mostly yellow. His instruments are good for orchestral purposes. His name is generally found stamped on the back, inside. CLAUDOT, Augustin, Paris, "Strad" pattern, yellow varnish, good wood. CLEMENT, ----, Paris, 1815-40. CLIQUOT, Henri, Paris, about 1765. CLIQUOT, Louis Alexandre, about 1765. COUSINEAU, Paris, about the end of the 18th century. Well made, name often branded on button. CUNAULT, Georges, Paris, contemporary; worked with Miremont, and afterwards alone; a careful maker. CUNY, ----, Paris. 18th century. CUYPERS, Johannes, 1755-18--. Worked at the Hague; varnish often yellow in colour. Well finished instruments, which are rising in value. DANIEL, ----, 1656, is described as having made a Double-Bass for the orchestra of one of the chapels at Antwerp Cathedral. DARCHE, Nicholas, Aix la Chapelle, died 1873. Made many useful instruments on the lines of the Cremonese Masters. Other makers of this name worked in Brussels and Mirecourt in the 19th century. DAVID, ----. Maker to the court of Louis XVI. DE COMBLE, Ambroise, Tournay, about 1760. Fait a Tournay par Ambroise de Comble, 1750. It is said that he worked in the shop of Antonio Stradivari, and judging from the character of the work, together with that of the varnish, it is not unlikely that he did receive instructions from the great Cremonese maker. The varnish is very like Italian; the colour often a rich red, with much body. His instruments are inclined to roughness as regards workmanship, and therefore are not pleasing to the eye. There is a resemblance to the instruments of Stradivari after 1732 in form, though not in workmanship, and he would therefore seem to have copied those late instruments. They may be described as of large pattern, flat model, and having an abundance of wood. They are deserving of attention both from the professor and the amateur, the workmanship being skilful and the material excellent. The tone is large, and frequently possesses the richness so much admired in the works of the Italians. This quality is traceable to the soft and flexible nature of the superior varnish with which these instruments are covered. Several Violas and Violoncellos are extant which were made by De Comble. DEHOMMAIS, Paris, 1870. _See_ GERMAIN (Emile). DELANOIX, ----, Bruxelles, about 1760. DELAUNAY, ----, Paris, 1775, Viol-maker. M. Chouquet describes an instrument of this maker which is in the collection at the Conservatoire. DELEPLANQUE, Gerard, Lille, 1768. DERAZEY, Honore, Mirecourt. Many of the instruments of this maker are carefully finished. They are heavy in wood. The varnish is inclined to hardness. Died 1875. DERAZEY, J. A., Mirecourt, 1815-85. Son of Honore; purchased the business of Nicolas. Made many useful instruments. DESPONS, Antoine, Paris, 17th century, is said to have made excellent instruments of various patterns. DIEULAFAIT, ----, 1720, Viol-maker. A Viol da Gamba of this maker is at the Conservatoire, Paris. DROULOT, ----, Paris, 1788. DUCHERON, Mathurin, Paris, 1714. DU MESNIL, Jacques, Paris, about 1655. EESBROECK, Jean Van, 1585, Antwerp, Lute-maker. M. C. Chevalier de Brabure states he was the son of Josse van Eesbroeck, of Maria Kerch. He gives some interesting particulars relative to the connection of music with the guild of St. Luke at Antwerp, and speaks of the makers of Clavichords seeking for admission into the Guild in 1557, adding that it was natural these makers should desire to belong to a corporation so great and honourable as that of St. Luke, which since 1480 had its Chambers of Rhetoric "dite _de Violiren, de Violier_." FALAISE, ----. Copied the Amatis and Stradivari. The workmanship may be likened to that of Pique. Varnish yellow and thin. There is no indication of a resort to any maturing process. Wood frequently handsome. FENT, or FENDT, ----, Paris, 1780. A maker known among French connoisseurs; related to the Fendts who worked in London. FLEURY, Benoist, Paris, from about 1755 to 1788. A Viol da Gamba of this maker, from the Clapisson collection, is at the Conservatoire, Paris. FOURRIER, Nicolas, Mirecourt. _See_ NICOLAS. GAILLARD, Charles, Paris, about 1850-81. Born at Mirecourt. Worked in Paris with C. A. Gand, and later on his own account. He was one of the best modern French makers, and his instruments already take high rank and command good prices. GAILLARD-LAJOUE, J. B., Mirecourt, brother of the above. Apprenticed to Gand, for whom he worked until about 1852. Much of his work is of a high order, and his best instruments are yearly increasing in value. He died about 1870. GAND, Charles Francois, Paris. He became a pupil of Nicolas Lupot in the year 1802. During his apprenticeship he proved himself an excellent maker, and was much valued by his famous instructor. He married the daughter of Lupot, and succeeded him in the Rue Croix des Petits Champs in the year 1824. The career of Francois Gand was one of much activity. As a repairer of the works of the great masters he early obtained a high reputation, and perhaps restored more valuable instruments than any repairer of his time. The care that he took and the judgment which he exercised in endeavouring to bring together the various broken parts of an imperfect instrument, that the original appearance might be maintained as closely as possible, cannot be too highly praised. He often accomplished seeming impossibilities. Splintered cracks were by his ingenuity closed as though no fibre had been severed, while at other times pieces were inserted so deftly that the most experienced eyes might fail to detect their presence. It was with him a labour of love, and he did not scruple to spend days over work on which others would only spend hours. He made many Violins, several of which were given as prizes at the Paris Conservatoire. They are well-made instruments, though heavy in appearance. They are good serviceable instruments, and, the wood not having been browned by baking or other injurious process, age mellows them greatly. He died in the year 1845. GAND, Charles Adolphe, son of Charles Francois Gand, was instructed by his father, and succeeded, together with his brother, to the old-established house founded by his grandfather. He died in 1866. GAND, Charles Nicholas Eugene, Paris, brother of C. Adolphe Gand, was a connoisseur of much experience and reputation. Upon the death of his brother C. Adolphe he entered into partnership with Bernardel Brothers. The firm employed many workmen, and turned out large numbers of useful, well-made instruments, with red varnish. They were the recipients of numerous medals and decorations. C. N. E. Gand died in 1892. GAVINIES, Francois, Paris, about 1734. Gavinies, rue S. Thomas du Louvre, a Paris, 17-- Father of Pierre Gavinies, the Violinist. Old French school. The wood is often of excellent quality, and the varnish also. Many of these old French makers, like our good English ones, made instruments of two qualities, and Gavinies was one of them. GERMAIN, Joseph Louis, born at Mirecourt in 1822. In Paris he was employed by Francois Gand, and afterwards worked for Vuillaume, for whom he made several choice instruments. It is to be regretted that his exceptional abilities were not allowed to add lustre to his name, he having made for the trade. He died in 1870. GERMAIN, Emile, Paris. Son of the above; established in Paris as a maker and restorer of Violins. He was, until 1882, in partnership with a maker named Dehommais. GOSSELIN, ----, Paris, 1814-40. GRAND-GERARD, Paris, about 1800. Commonplace work branded occasionally with his name. GRANDSON, Fils, Mirecourt, about 1850. GROSSET, Paul Francois, Paris, about 1750. Pupil of Claude Pierray. GUERSAN, Louis, succeeded Paul Pierray. Ludovicus Guersan prope Comaediam Gallicam, Lutetiae, Anno 1766. HEL, Pierre Joseph, Lille, contemporary. Well-made instruments. HENRY, Jean Baptiste. Born 1757, near Mirecourt. Worked in Paris. HENRY, Jean Baptiste Felix, son of the above. Established in Paris 1817. HENRY, Charles, brother of the above, born 1803. Made several excellent instruments. HENRY, Octave, nephew of Charles. HENRY, Eugene, son of Charles, born in 1843. HOFMANS, Mathias, Antwerp, 1700-25. A Kit of this maker was exhibited at Milan in 1870. JACOBS, Hendrik, Amsterdam, 1690-17--. A close imitator of Niccolo Amati. Few makers have been more mistaken than Jacobs; so exact was he in following the model of Amati, that numbers of his Violins are passed by the inexperienced as original. He mostly selected the grand pattern of Amati for his model, which gave him full scope for the exercise of his powers. He selected wood as nearly as possible resembling that found in the works of Niccolo Amati. The backs are mostly of even grain, and compact; the modelling can only be found fault with near the purfling, where its sharpness at once catches the attention of the critic in these matters, and divulges the true author. The varnish, though good, is not equal to that of Amati. The scroll is inferior to the body in merit. The purfling is of whalebone, like that of most of the Dutch makers. JACOBS, ----, Amsterdam, probably a son of the above. Excellent varnish, of a deep red, very transparent; full of character, but wanting in finish. Purfling embedded. JACQUOT, Charles, born at Mirecourt in 1804. Worked in Paris. He obtained prizes for his instruments at the Paris and other exhibitions. JACQUOT, Pierre Charles, Nancy, son of the above. JEANDEL, P. N., born in 1812. Worked for some years in Paris, and received prizes at the Paris and other exhibitions. He died in 1879. KOLIKER, ----, Paris, 1789-1820. LAMBERT, Jean Nicolas, Paris, about 1745. LAPAIX, ----, Lille, about 1855. LAPREVOTTE, Etienne, Paris, 1825-56. LECLERC, ----, Paris, about 1775. LECOMTE, ----, Paris, 1788. LEDUC, Pierre, Paris, 1646. LEFEBVRE, ----, Amsterdam, about 1730. LEFEBVRE, ----, Paris, 1788. LE JEUNE, Francois, Paris, 175-. LE PILEUR, Pierre, about 1754. LESCLOP, Francois Henry, Paris, 1746. LOUIS, ----, Geneva. LOUVET, Jean, Paris, 1750. LUPOT, Jean, Mirecourt. LUPOT, Laurent, Mirecourt, born 1696. Son of Jean Lupot, removed to Plombieres, afterwards to Luneville, and again to Orleans. LUPOT, Francois, born 1736. Son of Laurent. Born at Plombieres. In the year 1758 he removed to Stuttgart, and was appointed maker to the Duke of Wurtemberg. Francois removed with his son Nicolas to Orleans in 1770. He died in Paris in 1804. The workmanship and style are similar to those seen in the instruments of Chappuy and other makers of that period. Scroll rather rough, varnish dark brown, broad pattern. LUPOT, Nicolas, son of Francois, born at Stuttgart in 1758, removed with his father to Orleans in 1770. N. Lupot fils, Luthier, rue d'Illiers, a Orleans, l'an 1791. Nicolas Lupot, Luthier, rue de Grammont; a Paris, l'an 1803. Nicolas Lupot, Luthier, rue Croix des-petits-champs, a Paris, l'an 1817. He established himself in Paris in 1794, his fame having reached that city some time before. The attention which he soon received from the musical world of Paris proved to him that his removal was advantageous. He had not long been in Paris before he was honoured with the patronage of the Conservatoire of Music, an honour which is attended with many benefits, the chief of which is the making of a Violin annually, to be awarded as a prize to the most successful student among the Violinists. By this arrangement the maker has an opportunity of exercising to the best advantage all the skill of which he is capable, as he is at once aware that the attention of the public is directed to the constructor of the prize, as well as to the receiver, and that an immediate road to popularity is thus opened. Lupot's appointment as maker to the Conservatoire was enjoyed by his successor, Francois Gand, and was retained by the latter's son, in conjunction with Bernardel. Nicolas Lupot may be justly termed the French Stradivari. He was an artist in every sense of the word. He regarded the works of Stradivari with the utmost veneration. While, however, he laboured unceasingly to imitate him, he scorned all those mischievous maturing processes common to so many French copyists; he never desired that his copy should pass with the unwary as the original; it left his hands wholly unsophisticated. There is not an instance in which he did not varnish the copy all over, leaving time to do its work of wear, although by so doing he doubtless sacrificed much in his own time, inasmuch as all new Violins, so varnished, have a crude appearance, notwithstanding any amount of high finish expended upon them. What, however, Lupot lost in his own day has been awarded to his name a hundredfold since. He seldom occupied himself in copying Guarneri or Amati, although there are a few beautiful examples met with now and again in which he adopted these forms. Stradivari was his idol, and from the fact already mentioned, that he is very rarely found to have followed any other model than that of Stradivari, he would seem to have been aware of his own peculiar fitness for the great master's design. Every feature of Lupot's instruments was clearly a matter of study with him. It cannot be said of him, as of most other makers, that certain points are good, while others are weak. Every portion of his work contributes to the harmonious whole. The outline is perfect; the sound-hole is executed in a masterly manner; the model, purfling, and scroll of equal merit. He was untouched in his own day, and his productions have never been approached since. The varnish of Lupot is peculiar to him. Its qualities are good, being free from hardness. Though it is not of the Italian type, neither is it of the kind usually met with on the Violins of his contemporaries: it may be described as a quality of varnish coming between the Italian and the French. Its colour varies between light and dark red. Age has assisted in heightening its lustre, and although it will never rank with the varnish of Cremona, yet it will hold its own among the varnishes of modern times. It is said that many instruments having the name of Pique in them are the work of Lupot, and this misnomer is accounted for by the story that Pique purchased them in an unvarnished state, and varnished them with his preparation. Be this as it may, it is certain that the varnish of Pique could not serve to benefit such instruments; on the contrary, it would reduce their value. The tone of Lupot's instruments improves yearly. The quality is round and telling, and free from roughness. He died in Paris in 1824, aged 66, and was succeeded in his business by his son-in-law, Francois Gand. MARQUIS DE LAIR, Mirecourt, about 1800. The name is generally branded on the back. The wood is chiefly of a plain description, and varnish wanting in transparency. MAST, Jean Laurent, Paris, about 1750. MAST, Joseph Laurent, Mirecourt and Toulouse. Son of Jean Laurent. A Violin dated 1816 is in the Museum of the Paris Conservatoire. MAUCOTEL, Charles, born at Mirecourt, in 1807. In 1834 he entered the workshop of Gand in Paris. In 1844 he was employed by Davis, of Coventry Street, London, and ultimately commenced business in Rupert Street, from which he retired in 1860, and returned to France. He made several instruments, all of which have good qualities in workmanship and tone. They are strong in wood and carefully modelled. MAUCOTEL, Charles Adolphe, Mirecourt, worked in Paris from 1839 until 1858, in which year he died. He made many excellent instruments. MEDARD, Francois, was established in Paris about 1700. Franciscus Medard fecit Parisiis 1710. The work is excellent, and the varnish soft and transparent. MEDARD, Nicolas, Nancy, brother of Francois. MEDARD, Jean, Nancy, brother of Nicolas. MENNEGAND, Charles, born at Nancy in 1822. He is distinguished both as a maker and repairer of instruments. He entered the service of Rambaux in Paris in 1840. He has been rightly regarded as having displayed singular ability in the delicate and difficult task of "cutting" the large Italian Violoncellos and Tenors. The practice of reducing the dimensions of Cremonese instruments has happily come to be looked upon as emulative of the acts of the Goths and Vandals. It is in any case certain that numerous instruments have been operated upon with no greater skill than might have been expected at the hands of those barbarians. "These ruthless men," remarks Charles Reade, "just sawed a crescent off the top, and another off the bottom, and the result is a thing with the inner bout of a giant and the upper and lower bout of a dwarf." He rightly names this, "cutting in the statutory sense, viz., cutting and maiming," and implores the owner of an instrument in its original state to spare it, and if too large, to play on one of the value of 5 pounds, with the Cremona set before him to look at while he plays. To "cut" a Cremona, and to cut a diamond into a brilliant or a rose, are tasks equally difficult. The indifferent operator, in both cases, suffers more or less from the injury and annoyance his unskilfulness has occasioned. Borgis, a Venetian diamond-cutter, was employed by Shah Jehan to cut the Koh-i-nor, and in place of a reward was fined ten thousand ducats for his imperfect performance. Had it happened that some possessors of Cremonese gems had inflicted monetary or other punishment on incapable instrument cutters, the world would have been richer in Cremonas. Mennegand was at Amsterdam for a few years, and returned to Paris in 1857. He died in 1885. MIREMONT, Claude Augustin, Paris. Born at Mirecourt in 1827, removed to Paris in 1844. Miremont has made several excellent Violins, copies of Stradivari and Guarneri. He was for some years in New York, but returned to Paris and died at Pontorson in 1887. MODESSIER, ----, Paris, 1810. Made several instruments of large pattern, excellent for orchestral purposes. Wood of good quality. MOUGENOT, Georges, Brussels, contemporary. NAMY, ----, Paris, 1780 to 1806. NEZOT, ----, about 1750, maker of Viols. NICOLAS, Francois (Nicolas Fourrier), went from Mirecourt to Paris, where he is said to have worked from about 1784 to 1816. NICOLAS, Didier, Mirecourt, 1757-1833. The instruments of this maker are chiefly of large size, the outline being after that of Stradivari. They are mostly stamped on the back, inside, "A la ville de Cremonne, D. Nicolas Aine." Colour, yellow; tone very powerful, and admirably adapted for the orchestra. NICOLAS, Joseph, son of Didier, born 1796, died 1864. OUVRARD, Jean, pupil of Claude Pierray. [Illustration: _Plate XIV_. ANTONIO STRADIVARI.] PACHERELE, Michel, Paris, about 1779. PACHEREL, Pierre, Nice, died 1871, probably related to Michel Pacherele. Good workmanship; made several copies of Stradivari. PAUL, Saint, Paris, 17th century. Chiefly copied Amati. In the style of Boquay. PIERRAY, Claude, Paris, from about 1700 to 1725. Claude Pierray, proche la Comedie a Paris, 1725. Was an excellent workman, and many of his productions partake of the Italian character to a considerable extent. They are of two patterns, the majority being large. Amati would seem to have been his model, but his instruments can scarcely be considered copies of that maker, the outline only being retained, while the other features are dissimilar. The wood is rarely handsome, but its quality is good; the thicknesses are variable. The work is of average merit. Varnish is of a pale red colour, of good quality. It is interesting to learn that these instruments were appreciated in England at the beginning of the eighteenth century. Tom Britton had in his collection of books and instruments at Clerkenwell a "Claude Pierray," which is described in the sale catalogue as "a very beautiful Violin, and as good as a Cremona." PIETE, N., Paris, about 1780. PILLEMENT, F., Paris, 1790-1820. Work branded inside. PIQUE, F. L., Paris, about 1788-1822. Pique, rue de Grenelle St. Honore, au coin de celle des 2 Ecus, a Paris, 1790. As a copyist of Stradivari, this maker approached, perhaps, nearest to Nicolas Lupot. It has been supposed that some Violins bearing the name of Pique were made by Lupot, and varnished by Pique. There are several specimens of Pique's instruments upon which have been lavished care and skill of a very high order. Each feature is brought out, while, at the same time, exaggeration, that common error of the copyist, is avoided. The scrolls are well executed, both in point of finish and style; the sound-hole also is cut with precision. Many of his instruments have whole backs, of well-chosen material; the bellies are of a fine quality of wood. The instruments of Pique have long been esteemed, and will grow in reputation. PIROT, Claude, Paris, about 1800. Pressenda style and appearance. PONS, Cesar, Grenoble, about 1775. PONS, ----, Paris, chiefly known as a maker of Guitars. RAMBAUX, Claude Victor, born 1809. Worked in early life at Mirecourt, and afterwards in Paris. He was a clever repairer, and gifted with excellent judgment in his treatment of the works of the old masters. He was at one time in the workshop of Gand. He died in 1871. RANCE, Thomas, Brussels, about 1683. Good workmanship, well purfled, flat model. RAUT, Jean, worked at Rennes about 1760. REMY, ----, Paris, about 1760. REMY, Jean Mathurin, Paris, 1770-1854. REMY, Jules, Paris, 1813-76. REMY, ----, London, 1840. Originally from Paris. Copied the old masters with average ability, but unfortunately adopted the pernicious practice of preparing the wood, making his instruments prematurely old without the qualities of healthy age. RENAUDIN, Leopold, Paris, about 1788. RENAULT, Nicolas, an early maker, contemporary with Tywersus. ROMBOUTS, Peeter, Amsterdam, about the middle of the 18th century. High model, varnish of much brilliancy, but flaky. ROZE, ----, Orleans, about 1760. Average workmanship, yellow varnish, heavy scroll. SACQUIN, ----, Paris, 1830-60, made several excellent instruments; oil varnish of good quality, neat work, "Strad" pattern, name branded on back, inside. SALLE, ----, Paris, about 1825-50. Made several copies of Guarneri, many of which are excellent. He was also a clever restorer of old instruments, and had a critical eye for the works of the old Italian masters, in which he dealt to some extent. SALOMON, Jean Baptiste Deshayes, Paris, about 1750. SAUNIER, ----, about 1740-70. SCHNOECK, Egidius, Brussels, 1700-30. SILVESTRE, Pierre, Lyons. A maker of rare abilities. The finish of his instruments is of the highest order; indeed, it would be difficult to find any maker within the range of the modern French school who has surpassed him in delicate workmanship. It may be said of him, as of many others, that extreme fineness of work is obtained often at the expense of character; to develop both qualities needs the mind of a Stradivari. Silvestre was fortunate in procuring wood of beautiful quality; there is scarcely an instrument of his which is not handsome. He chiefly copied Stradivari. It is to be regretted that so few of his works are to be met with. Pierre Silvestre was born at Sommerwiller in 1801, and died at Lyons in 1859. In Paris he worked in the workshop of Lupot, and in that of his successor, Francois Gand. SILVESTRE, Hippolyte, born 1808, brother of Pierre, with whom he worked in partnership at Lyons from 1831-48. Hippolyte worked in the shop of Vuillaume. He retired from business in 1865. SILVESTRE, Hippolyte Chretien, Lyons, succeeded to the business of his uncles, Pierre and Hippolyte, which he transferred in 1884 to Paris. SIMON, Claude, Paris, about 1788. SIMONIN, Charles, Paris and Toulouse, pupil of J. B. Vuillaume. SOCQUET, Louis, Paris, about 1760-1800. THERESS, Charles, London. THIBOUT, Jacques Pierre, Paris, born 1777, died 1856. A well-known dealer in rare Italian instruments. To him belongs the merit of having encouraged Luigi Tarisio to bring to Paris his Cremonese gems. When Tarisio paid his first visit to Paris, the reception that he met with was not of such a nature as to warrant his returning; but having ultimately decided upon once more visiting the French capital, he met with Thibout, who, by earnest solicitation, prevailed on him to remove his rich wares to Paris. Jacques Pierre Thibout was an excellent workman, and his instruments are highly esteemed. THOMASSIN, ----, Paris, about 1845. TYWERSUS, ----, Nancy, 16th century. VAILLANT, Francois, Paris, about 1750. VERON, Pierre Andre, 1720-50. VIBRECHT, Gysbert, Amsterdam, about 1700. VUILLAUME, Jean, Mirecourt, 1700-40. VUILLAUME, Claude, Paris, 1772-1834. The earliest maker of this family; made commonplace instruments branded with his name. VUILLAUME, J. B., Paris, born 1798, died in 1875. There are upwards of 2,500 Violins which bear his name. Many of these he made throughout. The early ones are much appreciated, and having been wisely varnished over at first, now begin to show the good results of such handling. The career of Vuillaume was singularly eventful. Commencing life from the first stage of the ladder, he gradually mounted to the highest, by the help of the usual nurses of fortune, skill and perseverance. He was a great lover of Cremonese instruments, and was intimately associated with Tarisio. At the death of the celebrated Italian connoisseur, he purchased the whole of his collection. He employed a number of skilful workmen, some of whom have achieved independent and individual reputations, and will be found noticed in their proper places in this work. VUILLAUME, N. F., Brussels. Brother of the above. Was well known both as a maker and connoisseur. Born in 1802; died 1876. VUILLAUME, Claude Francois, born 1807. VUILLAUME, Sebastien, Paris, nephew of J. B. Vuillaume, made a few excellent instruments. He died in the same year, 1875. SECTION IX The German School There is no trace of any German Violins of the time of Gasparo da Salo, or Maggini. This is certainly remarkable, and the more so when we consider how near were the German makers of Lutes, &c., to the old Italian town where Violins were being made. It is evident from this non-production of Violins that the Tyrolese were content with their Viols and Lutes, and did not recognise the wonderful effects of the little Violin until it had become pretty nearly perfected by the Italians. The manufacture of Lutes, Viols, and Guitars in Germany had in 1650, or a little later, reached its zenith, and the exquisite pieces of workmanship, in the shape of Lutes, Viols da Gamba, and Viols d'Amore, richly inlaid with mother-of-pearl, ivory, and tortoiseshell, made at this period, evidence the high state of the art. To Jacob Stainer is due the credit, to a great extent, of changing the system of modelling so long in vogue in Germany. Although so great a maker, he was seemingly unable to free himself entirely from the proclivities common to his countrymen as Violin makers. There remained, after all Stainer's changes, the German sound-hole and extra arching, &c. Yet it must be readily admitted that the example which Stainer put before his countrymen was of great value, and served to engender an improved style throughout the Violin manufacture of Germany. The exceptional merits of this famous German artist were soon recognised, and his followers were legion. Among them were Sebastian Kloz, George Kloz, Egidius Kloz, and other members of that, perhaps the largest, family of Fiddle-makers the world has seen (had they been as good as they were numerous, what stores of prized Violins would have been bequeathed to us!); Reiss, of Bamberg; Rauch, of Breslau; and Leopold Widhalm, of Nuremberg, who was one of Stainer's best imitators; and others less known. There were several German makers--led, possibly, by the example of Stainer and Albani the younger--who turned their attention to Italy, as furnishing models superior to their own, and thus combined the styles of both countries; while they endeavoured to copy closely the Italian masters, without attempting to be original. Niccolo Amati was the maker whom these men chiefly copied, and most successfully did they perform their task. These copies, however, did not meet the success to which they were entitled, and the popularity of Stainer's mode was then so great that the instruments made upon systems other than his found no favour in the Fatherland. The makers who were copyists of the Italian masters were Ruppert, Bachmann, Jauch, and Eberle of Prague. When we consider the long list of makers forming the German School, we cannot fail to feel surprised that the number of really good artists was not much larger; and our surprise increases when the close proximity of the Tyrolese workers to the chief Italian centres of the manufacture of Violins is also considered. If the names of Jacob Stainer and Mathias Albani be excepted, the list is singularly destitute of makers famous for originality. The Germans were certainly great in the manufacture of the older stringed instruments, but seem to have made a poor beginning in the making of Violins. The form selected was bad, and they failed to improve upon it to any great extent. It would be quite impossible to furnish anything approaching a complete list of German makers, their number being so extended, and so many of their instruments being anonymous, and withal so weak in character that it is hard to discern them. Every care, however, has been taken to render the following list as complete as possible. SECTION X German Makers ALBANI, Mathias, Botzen. M. Fetis, quoting the Biographical Dictionary of Moritz Berman, with regard to Albani, states that he was born in 1621, and died in 1673. The form is somewhat like Stainer's, but higher and heavier in construction. The varnish is very rich. Wood of good quality. ALBANI, Mathias, Botzen, about 1650-1712. Mathias Albani Fecit Bulsani Tyrol 1651. Matthias Albanus Fecit Bulsani in Tyroli 1680. Son of the above. This maker should, perhaps, have been classed with those of Italy, his style being Italian; but as he was the son of the well-known German maker, it was thought best that his name should follow that of his father under the head of German makers. The son has shown but faint marks of having been tutored by his parent in the art of Violin-making. He is said to have visited Cremona, in order to receive instruction there under Amati, and this circumstance may have given to his work that Italian air which is so pleasing to the connoisseur.[1] This maker is often credited with the work of the elder Albani, it having been supposed that there was but one of that name. The model is good, and the workmanship throughout demands high praise. Gerber states that the famous Violinist, Tomaso Albinoni, possessed two Violins of this maker, dated 1702 and 1709. [Footnote 1: He appears to have worked for a time in Rome, from which city some instruments are dated.] ALBANI, Paolo, Palermo, about 1633. Probably related to the Albanis of Botzen. _See_ Italian makers. ALETZIE, Paolo, Munich. _See_ Italian makers. Paulus Aletzee hof Lauten und Geigenmacher in Munchen 1710. ARTMANN, ----, Weimar, near Gotha, 18th century. Was originally a joiner. Copied Amati very cleverly. The varnish is frequently of amber colour. BACHMANN, Carl Ludwig, born at Berlin, 1716. Court musician and Violin-maker. The work is clean, and not without style. Bachmann was a performer on the Viol. In 1765 he was appointed instrument maker to the court of Frederick the Great. Bachmann, in conjunction with Ernest Benda, founded in 1770 the concerts for amateurs at Berlin. He died in 1800. BACHMANN, O., Halberstadt, Violin-maker, and author of a handbook on the construction of bow instruments, published in 1835 at Leipsic. BAUSCH, Ludwig C. A., Leipsic, born at Nuremberg in 1815. Pupil of B. Fritsche in Dresden. BAUSCH, Ludwig B. Son of the above. BAUSCH, Otto B., Leipsic, born 1841, brother of the above. BECKMANN, Sweno, Stockholm, about 1700. The work is rough. BEDLER, ----, about 1750. BELA, Szepessy, born at Budapest in 1856. Now living in London. BINDERNAGEL, ----, Gotha, 18th century. Copied Amati chiefly. There are a few of his instruments which are on the model of Stradivari, and are highly valued in Germany. BUCHSTADTER, Gabriel David, Ratisbon, 18th century. His Violins are not equal in merit. Some have excellent wood, others very indifferent. When one of his best instruments can be procured, it is a good substitute for a second-class Italian. CHRISTA, Joseph Paul, Munich, 1730. Josephus Paulus Christa, Lauten und Geigenmacher in Munchen. 17-- DIEL, Martin (spelt Diehl by later members of the family), Mayence, worked with Nicolaus Dopfer, and later with Carl Helmer of Prague. He was a son-in-law of Dopfer. DIEL, Nicolaus, born 1779, son of Martin, worked with his uncle Jacob Steininger of Frankfort. He succeeded to the business of his father. Died 1851. DIEL, Johann, brother of Nicolaus. DIEL, Jacob, son of Nicolaus, settled in Bremen 1834, later in Hamburg. Died 1873. DIEHL, Nicolaus Louis, Hamburg, son of Jacob Diehl, died 1876. DIEHL, Friedrich, Darmstadt, born 1814, son of Nicolaus, received a bronze medal, Paris Exhibition, 1867. DIEHL, Johann, Mayence. DIEHL, Heinrich, son of Johann. DOPFER, Nicolaus, 1768. The instruments of this maker are well made; the model is less raised than that of many German makers. He made a few large Tenors. Dopfer was the master of Martin Diehl. DURFEL, J. G., Altenburg, 18th century. A well-known maker of Double-Basses. EBERLE, J. Ulric, Prague, about 1730-50. Was a good copyist of the Italian masters. Eberle also made Viols d'Amour. Joannes Udalricus Eberle, Lautenmacher in Prag, 1730. EDLINGER, T., Prague, about 1712. EDLINGER, Joseph Joachim, Prague. Son of the above. Worked for some time in Italy. Died 1748. ELSLER, Johann Joseph, Mayence, 1720-50. Made many good Viols da Gamba. ERNST, Franz Anton, born in 1745 in Bohemia, died in 1805. He was an eminent Violinist, and received lessons from Antonio Lolli. In 1778 he was engaged as Court musician at Gotha. He took great interest in Violin-making, and made several excellent instruments. FELDEN, M., Vienna, about 1550. Maker of Viols. FICHTOLD, Hans, about 1612. Lute-maker. FICHTL, Martin, Vienna, 1757. Large pattern, good varnish, wood of excellent quality. FICKER, Johann Christian, Cremona, 1720. Said to have lived in the midst of the greatest makers the world has had; if so, he certainly did not make himself acquainted with the art of Violin-making as understood in Cremona. His instruments may have been made at Mittenwald, and dated from Cremona. FICKER, Johann Gotlieb, Cremona, 1789. FISCHER, Zacharie, Wurtzburg, 1730. This maker adopted the practice of baking the wood for the manufacture of Violins. FISCHER, Anton, Vienna, died 1879. FREY, Hans, Nuremberg and Bologna, born about 1440. A celebrated maker of Lutes. He was the father-in-law of Albert Durer. John Evelyn, in his Diary, 1645, after speaking in praise of the cheese and sausages of Bologna, refers to the great celebrity of the Lutes by the old makers of that city, and mentions Hans Frey. He says they "were of extraordinary price, and the workmen were chiefly Germans." FRITZCHE, ----, Leipsic, about 1780-1810. GEDLER, Johann A., Fussen, about 1750. GEDLER, Johann B., Fussen, about 1780. GEISSENHOF, Franz, Vienna, died 1821. The initials F. G. sometimes branded on the button. Stradivari model. Good work. GERLE, Johann, Nuremberg, 1533 to about 1550. Maker of Lutes and Viols. He also published a book on the Lute, 1533. GRIESSER, Matthias, Innspruck, 1727. GRIMM, Carl, Berlin, born about 1794. He died at Berlin, 1855, and was succeeded by a son, Ludwig Grimm. GROBITZ, A., Warsaw, about 1750. GUGEMMOS, Fussen, Bavaria, 17--. Indifferent work. HAENSEL, Johann A., Berlin. Contributed an article to the "Leipsic Musical Gazette" in 1811, entitled "Ueber den Bau der Violin." HAMBERGER, Joseph, Presburg, 1845. HAMM, Johann Gottfried, Rome, 18th century. Made instruments of a wide pattern, often with ivory edges, and branded inside with his initials. HAMMIG, W. H., Leipsic. Now living. HASSERT, ----, Eisenach, 18th century. HASSERT, ----, Rudolstadt, 18th century. HELMER, Carl, Prague, born 1740. Pupil of Eberle of Prague. HILDEBRANDT, Michael C., Hamburg, 1770. HILTZ, Paul, Nuremberg, 1656. Maker of Viols. HOFFMANN, Martin, Leipsic, about 1680 to 1725. Maker of Lutes and Viols. HOFFMANN, Johann Christian, Leipsic, about 1720. Son of Martin Hoffmann. Lute and Viol maker. HORNSTAINER, Joseph, Mittenwald, about 1730. Made a few Double-Basses of good quality. HORNSTAINER, Matthias, Mittenwald, about 1800. HORIL, Jacob, Rome, about 1742. HULLER, August, Shoeneck, about 1775. HUMEL, Christian, Nuremberg, about 1709. HUNGER, Christoph Friedrich, Leipsic, born at Dresden, 1718, died 1787. One of the best German makers. JAIS, Johann, Botzen, about 1776. There were other makers of this name. JAUCH, Johann, Gratz, Styria, Austria. Worked in Dresden about 1774. KARB, ----, Konigsberg, Maker of Viols. KAMBL, Johann A., Munich, 1640. Johan Andreas Kambl Churfurstl. Hof Lauten und Geigenmacher in Munchen. KEMBTER, ----, Dibingen, about 1730. Stainer model. Good wood, and work well purfled. KIAPOSSE, Sawes, St. Petersburg, 1750. KIRCHSCHLAG, ----, Tyrol, 1780. KLOZ, Matthias, Mittenwald, 1656-1743. Is reported to have been a pupil of Stainer. The work is good and the varnish in some cases of a mellow quality, in others somewhat thin. Some of the wood that he used was cut at the wrong season, and is consequently worm-eaten. KLOZ, Sebastian, Mittenwald, 1696-1750, son of Matthias Kloz. Sebastian Kloz, in Mittenwald, An 17-- The instruments of this maker are much esteemed. The model is flat as compared with most Violins of the German school. The varnish varies. KLOZ, George, Tyrol, 1687-1737, brother of Sebastian Kloz. Instruments well made, chiefly yellow in colour; wood often worm-eaten. KLOZ, Egidius, Mittenwald, 1675-1711. KLOZ, AEgidius, Mittenwald, 1733-1805. Son of Sebastian. One of the best of this very large family of makers. KLOZ, Joseph, Mittenwald, son of Egidius. KLOZ, J. Karl, about 1741. Good work, dark varnish, ornamental border round label. KNITTLE, Joseph, Mittenwald. KNITTING, Philip, Mittenwald, 1760. KOHL, Johann, Munich, 1580. Lute-maker to the Bavarian Court. KOLDITZ, J., Rumburg, died 1796. [Illustration: _Plate XV_. CHAPEL OF THE ROSARY. CHURCH OF ST. DOMENICO, CREMONA.] KOLDITZ, Mathias Johann, Munich, 1720. Mathias Joannes Koldjz, Lauten und Geigenmacher in Munchen 17-- KRAMER, H., 1717, Viol-maker. KRINER, Joseph, Mittenwald, 1786. LASKA, Joseph, Prague, born at Rumburg, 1738, died 1805. Worked with J. Kolditz. LEMBOCK, Gabriel, Budapest, 19th century. Maker; also known as a repairer of old instruments. MANN, Hans, Naples. MAUSSIELL, Leonard, Nuremberg, 1745. Stainer pattern, excellent workmanship. Thin yellow varnish, raised edges. The style and work is not unlike that of Tecchler. MAHER (MAIER), Andreas Ferdinand. Good varnish, sometimes with lion scrolls. Andreas Ferdinandus Mahr, Hof Laut und Geigenmacher in Salzburg. Anno 17-- MEUSIDLER, Johann, Nuremberg, about 1550. Maker of Viols. MOHR, Philip, Hamburg, 17th century. Viol-maker. MOLDONNER, Fussen, Bavaria, 18th century. NIGGEL, Simpertus, Fussen, 17--. Flat model, good workmanship. Branded inside with initials S. N. OHBERG, Johann, Stockholm, 1773. Workmanship of average merit. Varnish mostly of yellow colour. OTT, Johann, Nuremberg, about 1463. Lute-maker. OTTO, Jacob August, born at Gotha, 1762, died 1830. Violin-maker to the Court of Weimar. Received instructions from Franz Anton Ernest. He published a work in 1817 entitled, "Ueber den Bau und die Erhaltung der Geige und aller Bogeninstrumente," and another work with more information in 1828, the first English edition of which was published in 1848. OTTO, Georg August, son of Jacob August, born 1807, died 1859. Succeeded to the business of his father at Jena. OTTO, Christian, Halle, second son of Jacob August. Born 1813, died 1876. OTTO, Heinrich, Berlin, third son of Jacob August. Born 1815, died 1858. OTTO, Carl, Ludwigslust, fourth son of Jacob August. Born 1825. Violin-maker to the Court of Mecklenburg. Died in 1883. OTTO, C. U. F., Stockholm, fifth son of Jacob August. Died 1884. OTTO, Ludwig, St. Petersburg, son of Georg August. Born at Cologne; died 1887. OTTO, Louis, Dusseldorf, son of Carl, now living. OTTO, Hermann, St. Petersburg, son of Ludwig. Died 1884. PARTH, Andreas Nicholas, Vienna, 18th century. PFRETZSCHNER, Johann Gottlob, Cremona, 1750. Very commonplace. PFRETZSCHNER, Carl Friedrich, Cremona, son of the preceding; no merit. PLACK, F., Schoenbock, 1730-45. POSSEN, L., Schoengau, Bavaria, about 1553. Maker of Viols and Lutes. RAUCH, ----, Wurtzburg. RAUCH, Jacob, Manheim, 1720-50. Brother of the above. Court Violin-maker. RAUCH, Sebastian, Hamburg, 1725. High model, rough workmanship. A maker of this name is said to have worked at Leitmeritz, Bohemia, about 1750. Possibly the same. RAUCH, ----, Breslau, about 1750. REICHEL, Johann Gottfried, Absam, 18th century. REICHEL, Johann Conrad, Neukirchen, 18th century. REICHERS, August, Berlin, 19th century. Pupil of Bausch of Leipsic. RIESS, ----, Bamberg, about 1750. ROSCHER, C. H. W., Bremen, about 1871. ROTH, Christian, Augsburg, 17th century. RUPPERT, Franz, Erfurt, 18th century. RUPPERT, J. N., Erfurt, 1719-28. SAINPRAE, Jacques, Berlin, 17th century. A Baryton Viol of this maker is among the musical instruments at the Kensington Museum. It is said to have belonged to Johann Quantz, the famous flute-player.[2] The Baryton was a favourite instrument with Haydn. He composed several pieces for the instrument, and was fond of playing it. The Baryton, or Viol di Bordone, is of the character of the Viole d'Amour, being strung with sympathetic metal strings. It is, however, a large and more complicated instrument. [Footnote 2: The flute-playing of Johann Joachim Quantz in 1728 gave so much pleasure to the Crown Prince of Prussia, afterwards Frederick the Great, that he decided to take lessons from Quantz, who was then in the service of Augustus, Elector of Saxony and King of Poland. Quantz was stationed alternately in Dresden and Warsaw. He became a member of the orchestra of Augustus in 1718, when Jean Baptiste Volumier was its director, of whom mention has been made (page 208) relative to his having been sent to Cremona in 1715 to await the completion of twelve Violins ordered of Stradivari.] SAWICKI, C. N., Vienna, 1792-1850. SCHEINLEIN, Mathias F., 1710-71. High built; dark varnish. SCHEINLEIN, Johann Michael, Langenfeld, son of the above. Similar characteristics. SCHELL, Sebastian, Nuremberg, 1727. Lute-maker. SCHLICK, ----, Leipsic. SCHMIDT, ----, Cassel, 1800-25. Copied Stradivari indifferently; wood of an inferior kind. SCHONFELDER, Johann A., Neukirchen, about 1743. SCHONGER, Franz, Erfurt, 18th century. SCHONGER, Georg, Erfurt, son of the above. SCHORN, Johann, Innspruck, about 1680. An excellent maker; the varnish is similar to that of Albani; high modelled. He appears to have removed to Salzburg. There are Viols of his make dated from there in 1696 and 1699. SCHORN, Johann Paul, Salzburg, about 1700-16. Court instrument-maker. SCHOTT, Martin, Prague. Chiefly known as a maker of Lutes. SCHWARTZ, Strasbourg, about 1845. Several of this name worked in Strasbourg. SCHWEITZER, J. B., Budapest, died 1875. Flat model, neat workmanship. Made a few Tenors. STADELMANN, Daniel, Vienna, 1680-1744. Good work, model of Jacob Stainer. Thin varnish, sometimes yellow colour. STADELMANN, Johann Joseph, Vienna, 18th century. Copied Stainer; average merit. STAINER, Jacob, Absam, born July 14, 1621, at Hall. Jacobus Stainer in Absam prope Oenipontum. 16-- The celebrity of this maker is second only to that of the great Cremonese artists. His admirers in Germany and England were, at one time, more numerous than those of the principal Italian makers. In a manuscript note which Sir John Hawkins added to his own copy of his History of Music (1776), he says, "The Violins of Cremona are exceeded only by those of Stainer, a German, whose instruments are remarkable for a full and piercing tone." To the connoisseur of to-day such commendation may seem inexplicable, and cause him to believe that Fiddle admirers of past times were incapable of appreciating true beauty of form, and its bearing upon sound, or else that fashion made its influence felt on the Fiddle world as elsewhere. It would be absurd to deny that the greatest German maker of Violins that ever lived was a man of rare abilities, because it is indelibly written on his chief works that he was a thorough artist. Therefore an expression of surprise that Jacob Stainer has been estimated higher than even Stradivari by the Germans and English, must not be understood as a reflection on his abilities, since it refers to the form that he chose to give to his works. To account for the apparent inconsistency in the works of Stainer, and to strike the balance between his exceptional abilities on the one side and his model on the other, is not easy. His form was not a borrowed one; it is as original as that of Stradivari--a fact which makes it more than ever unintelligible that he should have been content with it. To arrive at anything approaching to a satisfactory solution, we must endeavour to trace the history of this model. Jacob Stainer was born in the Tyrol, and passed there his early years, and probably received his first instructions from one of the old Tyrolean Lute and Viol makers, at a period when they raised their model, and introduced into the German School the scooping round the sides of the backs and bellies, the inelegant sound-hole, the harsh outline, and uncouth scroll. As experience ripened his understanding, he may have felt that these characteristics of the German School were not such as could be moulded with advantage by an artist, whatever his talent might be, and resolved to do his best to unlearn much that he had acquired. In order to do so with any chance of success, but one course was open to him--that of studying the works of the Italian masters. It has been stated that he went to Italy when very young. With this view I do not concur. In all cases where there is an absence of direct evidence, opinions can only be formed from particular analogies bearing on the case under consideration. Now in the case of Stainer we have nothing to guide us but his variations of style, and dates of time and place. What is the result of a careful investigation of every particle of evidence that we can glean? The style is ever German, although the great maker is head and shoulders above all his countrymen who followed his art. I am thus forced to believe that had so excellent an artist visited Italy in his youth, as reported, there would have remained but the faintest trace of its origin. That men of less ability should be unable to entirely sever themselves from their national style of work, even under circumstances most favourable for such a release, I can readily understand; it is an incapacity which has been exemplified over and over again; but Jacob Stainer was not one of these ordinary men; he had not his superior in the school of Cremona as a finished workman, with the single exception of Antonio Stradivari. I believe, therefore, that the German style was deeply rooted within him when he ceased to be young, and that if he went to Cremona or Venice, it was not until he recognised the inferiority of the school in which he had been bred, as compared with that of Cremona or Venice. That he did not go far enough in his "second thought" is pretty well acknowledged on all sides. His originality was conceived in the German School, amid the worst examples, and it was too late to undo what had gone before. Here, then, lies, I consider, the key to the seeming anomaly that so great a maker as Stainer should have adopted and clung to so clumsy a model. That he became acquainted with much of the best work of the Italians is evidenced by his improved style. The varnish he used furnishes even stronger evidence of his having possessed a knowledge of the subject equal to that of the Cremonese makers. Whether he acquired this knowledge in Cremona or Venice cannot be stated with certainty, but I am inclined to believe that he gained it in the first-named city. Who but an artist acquainted with the best work of Italy in Violin-making could have made those exquisite Violins known as "Elector Stainers"? The wood, selected for its rare loveliness, the finished workmanship, and charming rose-coloured varnish, render these works of art of which one glimpse is a never-fading memory. These works show the diligent zeal with which Stainer laboured in his studies of the Italian masters. He contrived to give these instruments an air of grace quite foreign to the best efforts of his brother German makers. In the sound-hole and scroll is observable his seeming desire to leave behind the German preferences; and although it must be admitted that he was but partially successful in his endeavours to stamp out early tendencies, the connoisseur cannot but be impressed with the results of the artist's manipulations. Had such skill been exercised on a form nearer akin to the Italian, the result would have been perfect. Prior to the publication of the interesting facts obtained by Herr S. Ruf, relative to the personal history of Jacob Stainer, we had no really reliable account of this famous maker.[3] The industry and research of Herr Ruf has not only supplied all the ascertainable facts with regard to Stainer, but also served to trace the history of Stainer fiction. The last-mentioned portion of Herr Ruf's labours is singularly instructive as to the manner in which romance is spliced on to what is intended to be sober history, and which results oftentimes in the graft being rendered invisible, or even unsuspected. He tells us that the first mention of Jacob Stainer is that made by Johann Primisser, about a century after the death of the Violin-maker, and that he merely states that there lived in Absam in 1673 a celebrated maker named Stainer. [Footnote 3: The notice of Jacob Stainer in the "Biographie Universelle des Musiciens" contains information supplied by J. B. Cartier, the well-known Violinist, which formed a portion of the history of the Violin which Cartier proposed publishing, also from notes made by Paul L. de Boisgelou, who brought together much curious information relative to music and musicians.] Early in the present century Counsellor Von Sardagna collected certain particulars concerning Stainer, which were published in 1822. He states that Stainer lived at Absam, that it is traditionally reported that he went to Venice or Cremona, and died a madman. It appears that this slight material was at once utilised for the manufacture of nearly all the romantic accounts of Stainer with which we are familiar. Herr Ruf says that in the year 1825 there appeared in a German literary publication a poetical effusion entitled "Jacob Stainer," and that in 1829 Dr. Johann Schuler published a novel of great merit on the same subject. Herr Ruf states that August Lewald in 1835 made the novel of Dr. Schuler the basis of the romantic account of Stainer, published in his "Guide Book to Tyrol," under the title of "An Evening in Absam," but without any acknowledgment whatever. Notwithstanding the growth of Stainer literature down to 1835, not a single historical fact concerning the maker had been brought to light. In the year 1839 Herr Ruf began his labours of research. He discovered at Hall a register of the parish of Absam, wherein he found all the information we possess as regards the birth and death of Stainer and his family. About this period the poem of Dr. Johann Schuler, "Jacob Stainer," was dramatised by Theodore Rabenalt. Other poems based on the same material appeared in 1843, but still the facts of Stainer's life were all but unknown. At length Herr Ruf was prevailed upon by Dr. Schafhault (an ardent admirer and collector of Stainer's Violins) to prosecute his inquiries concerning the great maker. In the archives of the town and salt mines at Hall, Herr Ruf found much information, which he published in the local newspapers, the ephemeral nature of which naturally placed his valuable contributions beyond the reach of those likely to value them. In the meantime Nicolaus Diehl, of Hamburg, published a little book on Violins, into which was imported a portion of the romance traceable to the novels or poems on Stainer. Herr Ruf, feeling disappointed that his labours in discovering the facts relative to Stainer had failed to clear away the cloud of Stainer fiction, published in 1872 his book, "Der Geigenmacher Jacob Stainer von Absam in Tirol," which gives us a full account of his researches, and should have secured to him the full credit due to his industry. His facts, however, like the good fiction found in Dr. Schuler's novel, "Jacob Stainer," have been used by German writers on the subject of the Violin without any acknowledgment. Herr Ruf died at Hall in the year 1877. It is said that Stainer was apprenticed to an organ-builder at Innsbruck, but owing to his weak constitution he was unable to continue in the business, and chose instead the trade of Violin-making. Amongst the rumours concerning this maker may be mentioned that of his having been a pupil of Niccolo Amati. It is certain there is no direct evidence in support of it, neither is it shown that his work is founded on that of Amati. I am satisfied that Stainer was assisted neither by the Brothers Amati nor Niccolo Amati, and I am strengthened in this opinion by the steadfastly German character of a model which no pupil of Amati could have persisted in using, even though based on his earliest traditions. The marriage of Stainer took place October 7, 1645. On the 9th of October, 1658, he was appointed by the Archduke Leopold (of Austria, Governor of Tyrol) one of the "archducal servants," and on the 9th of January, 1669, he obtained from the Emperor the title of "Violin-maker to the Court." About this period he is said to have incurred the displeasure of the Jesuits, which led to his being accused of the crime of heresy. The accusation seems to have been based on the fact of books of a controversial kind--chiefly Lutheran--having been found in his possession. The penalty he suffered for daring to indulge in polemical literature was six months' imprisonment, and his future prospects were completely shattered. Prior to this misfortune he appears to have been in pecuniary difficulties, and frequently at law with one Salomon Hubmer, of Kirzchdorf, from whom he had obtained money loans. In the year 1677 he petitioned the Emperor Leopold--who was a great patron and lover of music--to render him pecuniary assistance, but failed to procure it. Over-burdened with troubles, he was bereft of his reason, and died insane and insolvent in the year 1683. "Alas! misfortunes travel in a train, And oft in life form one perpetual chain." His widow was left with a family of eight daughters, she dying in poverty in 1689, which chronological fact disposes of the fiction, so widely circulated, that in consequence of the great grief he experienced upon the death of his wife he withdrew from the world, and became an inmate of a Benedictine monastery, and that he made within its walls the famous instruments known as "Elector Stainers," which he presented to the twelve Electors. Whether he made them to order, in the usual manner, whether he presented them, or where he made them, matters little; they are works of great merit, and need no mysterious surroundings to call attention to them. The followers of Stainer have been numerous, and are mentioned in the lists of German and English makers. Probably no maker is more mistaken than Stainer: the array of German instruments called by his name is at least ten times greater than the number he actually made. Nearly every high-built tub of a Violin sails under his colours. Instruments without any resemblance whatever to those of Stainer are accepted by the multitude as original Jacob Stainers. Much of this has arisen from the variety of style and work said to have been shown in the instruments of this maker. That this marked variety exists I do not believe. The pattern varies, but the same hand is traceable throughout. STAINER, Markus, Kufstein, Tyrol, about 1659, described as a brother of Jacob. He styled himself on his label "Citizen and Violin-maker." Citizenship carried with it special privileges, and this maker apparently recognised the honour by having "Burger" after his name. STAINER, Andreas, Absam, about 1660. Mention is made of a maker of Baryton Viols of this name. STAUGTINGER, Mathias W., Wurzburg, about 1671. Maker of Viols and Lutes. STEININGER, Jacob, Frankfort, about 1775. Son-in-law of the Violin-maker Dopfer, and uncle of Nicolas Diehl, to whom he gave instructions in Violin-making. STEININGER, Franz, St. Petersburg, son of Jacob Steininger. STOSS, ----. Makers of this name worked at Prague, Vienna, and Fussen, about the end of the 18th century. STOSS, Martin, Vienna, about 1824. Flat model, good workmanship. Stradivari pattern, indifferent varnish. STRAUBE, ----, Berlin, about 1775. STRAUSS, Joseph, Neustadt, about 1750. TIEFFENBRUCKER. There appear to have been several Lute-makers of this name working in the 16th century in Germany and elsewhere. No genuine Violins are known. _See_ DUIFFOPRUGCAR. TIELKE, Joachim, Hamburg, about 1539-92. The name of Tielke is associated with the most remarkable instruments of the Lute and Guitar kind ever produced in relation to rich and chaste ornamentation. It is said there are glowing accounts in old German books of the magnificent instruments by Tielke, with elaborate designs in silver, gold, and jewels.[4] The ornamentation and workmanship seen in the best instruments of this maker bear the impress of Italian art of a high order, and evidence the employment of Italian draughtsmen by the house of Tielke. In the collection of instruments at Kensington is a Chiterna (an instrument of the Lute kind) of this make. The body is ornamented with tortoiseshell, with mythological figures in ivory and precious stones. It is signed, and dated 1539. In the possession of Mr. George Donaldson is a Guitar of this maker, signed, and dated 1592, which is considered to be the most artistic and highly ornamented work known by Joachim Tielke. It is wonderfully preserved, and admirably shows the style and character of the art-work of the period. [Footnote 4: Engel's "Descriptive Catalogue of the Musical Instruments in Kensington Museum," 1874.] TIELKE, Joachim, Hamburg, about 1660-86. Viol and Violin maker. The dates met with on the instruments signed "Tielke" cover a period of upwards of a century and a half, and thus evidence the existence of the house, in connection with the manufacture of musical instruments, through two or more generations. There is, of this maker, a Viola di Bordone in the collection at Kensington, dated 1686. Mention is made by Fetis of a Violin dated 1670, which was in the possession of Andre of Offenbach; and a Chiterna dated 1676, similar to that in the Kensington collection, is owned by Mr. George Donaldson. M. Chouquet, in his catalogue of the collection of instruments at the Conservatoire, Paris, refers to a Lute (No. 136) by Tielke. VOEL, E., Mayence, about 1840. Excellent workmanship, scroll well cut. Stradivari model. The character of work is not unlike that of Bernard Fendt. VOGEL, Wolfgang, Nuremberg, 1650. [Illustration: _Plate XVI_. ANTONIO STRADIVARI. Date 1708. (HECTOR HAVEMEYER, ESQ.) ANTONIO STRADIVARI. Date 1736. GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESU. Date 1735. (G. HART.)] VOGLER, Johann Georg, Wurzburg, about 1750. Johann Georg Vogler, Lauten und Geigenmacher in Wurzburg. 17-- VOIGT, Martin, Hamburg, about 1726.[5] [Footnote 5: About thirty makers named Voigt or Voight hail from Germany, some contemporary and others dating from the 18th and 19th centuries. Their work is not of sufficient importance to require special notice.--EDITORS.] WAGNER, Joseph, 1730, Constance. WEICKERT, Halle, 1800. WEIGERT, ----, Lintz, about 1721. Maker of Viols. WEISS, Jacob, Salzburg, 18th century. Jacob Weiss, Lauten und Geigenmacher in Salzburg. WENGER, G. F., Salzburg, 18th century. WIDHALM, Leopold, Nuremburg, 18th century. Leopold Widhalm Lauten und Geigenmacher, Nurnberg Fecit, A. One of the best imitators of Stainer. The wood is frequently handsome, the work finished with care. Varnish, although wanting the delicacy of that of Stainer, is generally of good quality; its colour is mostly pale red. Nearly all his instruments are branded with the initials inside. His name has frequently been spelt Withalm. WITTING, J. G., Mittenwald, about 1775. WYEMANN, Cornelius, Amsterdam, 18th century. ZWERGER, Antoni, Mittenwald, about 1750. Neat work, good wood, varnish of the character of that seen on the instruments of Kloz. SECTION XI The English School It is somewhat remarkable that the Continental writers on the Violin should have omitted to mention any English maker, either ancient or modern. Such an omission must have occurred either from want of information concerning our best makers, or, if known, they must have been deemed unworthy of the notice of our foreign friends. There is no mention of an English maker in the work of Fetis, "Antoine Stradivari," 1856, although numerous very inferior German and Italian makers are quoted. The same omission is also conspicuous in "Luthomonographie Historique et Raisonne," 1856, and Otto's "Ueber den Bau der Bogeninstrumente," &c., 1828. It may be that Continental connoisseurs have credited themselves with the works of our best makers, and expatriated them, while they have inexorably allowed bad English Fiddles to retain their nationality. However, it is my desire that my foreign brothers should be enlightened on this point, and in all candour informed of the array of makers that England has at different times produced, and is yet capable of producing, did but the new Violin command the price that would be a fair return for the time and skill required in the production of an instrument at once useful and artistic. It will be my endeavour to show forth the qualities of those of our makers whose names, as yet, seem never to have crossed the Channel, so that when these pages on the English School are read by distant connoisseurs, and the merits and shortcomings of the makers therein are fairly weighed by them, the good shall be found so to outweigh the indifferent as to entirely change the opinions formed of us as makers of the leading instrument. Until the early nineteenth century makers of Violins in England would appear to have been comparatively numerous, if we take into consideration the undeveloped state of stringed instrument music at that period in this country. Among those makers were men of no ordinary genius--men who worked lovingly, guided by motives distinct from commercial gain, so long as they were allowed to live by their work. When, however, the duties on foreign musical instruments were removed, the effect was to partially swamp the gallant little band of Fiddle-makers, who were quite unable to compete with the French and German makers in _price_ (not _excellence_, be it distinctly understood, for we were undoubtedly ahead of our foreign competitors, both in style and finish, at this period). The prices commanded by many English makers previous to the repeal of the duty were thoroughly remunerative. Five to twenty pounds were given for English Violins, while Violoncellos and Tenors commanded prices proportionately high. The English Violin-makers were thus enabled to bestow artistic care in the making of their instruments. When, however, they were suddenly called upon to compete on equal terms with a legion of foreign manufacturers, the result was not so much that their ardour was damped, as that they themselves were extinguished, and served as another instance of the truth of the adage that "the good of the many is the bane of the few." In matters of magnitude, whether artistic or otherwise, competition is undoubtedly healthy, there being always a small body of patrons who are willing to check the tendency to deteriorate, common to all productions, by encouraging the worker with extra remuneration, in order that a high degree of excellence may be maintained; but in matters confined to a small circle, as in the case of Violin-making, the number of those willing to encourage artistic workmanship is so minute as to fail even to support _one_ maker of excellence, and thus, when deprived suddenly of its legitimate protection, the art, with other similar handicrafts, must drift into decadence. If we look around the Violin world, it is everywhere much the same. In Italy there is no Stradivari in embryo, in France no coming Lupot, in Germany no Jacob Stainer, and in England no future Banks or Forster. Why so? The answer is twofold. Partly there is fault in the _demand_, arising from the marked preference of this age for cheapness at the expense of goodness; partly, too, there is a fault in the _supply_, a foolish desire on the part of the makers to give maturity to their instruments, wherein they always completely fail, yet they will not give up their conceit. Here, again, were we dealing with matters of greater magnitude, the evil influence would be lessened, the artistic impulses would still be felt, though in a less degree; whereas so contracted is the circle of the Violin world, that under any stress the support given to makers willing to bestow an artist's care on their work is totally inadequate. The case of modern Violin-makers is unfortunate. Old Violins being immeasurably superior to modern productions, the demand must necessarily set steadily for the former, and the modern maker has only the few patrons of new work to support him. It cannot be expected that the players of to-day should patronise the modern Violin in order that the next generation should reap the benefit. Years since it was quite a different matter. The makers were well paid for their work, and new instruments were then made to supply wants similar to those which the horrid Mirecourt or Saxon copy fulfils at present. As with other things, so is it also with Violins; if they are to be produced with the stamp of artistic merit, they must be paid for accordingly; without patronage the worker necessarily becomes careless. Finding that his skill fails to attract attention, he gradually sinks down into the mere routine of the ordinary workman. When Italy shone brightest in art, the patronage and remuneration which the workers received was considerable. Had it been otherwise, the powers of its Raffaele, its Cellini, and last (though not least to the admirers of the Violin), its Stradivari, would have remained simply dormant. Art, like commerce, is regulated in a great measure by supply and demand. In Raffaele's day, sacred subjects were in demand; the Church was his great patron, and aided him in bringing forth the gift which nature had implanted within him. In modern times, landscape-painting became the favoured subject, particularly in England; the result of which preference has been to place us in the foremost rank in that branch of art. The stage furnishes another instance of the effect that patronage has in bringing forth latent talent. If the history of dramatic art be traced, it will be found that its chief works were written when the taste of an appreciative public could be securely counted upon. As it waned, so the writers of merit became rarer; or perhaps it would be more correct to say, the plays produced became less meritorious, the authors being constrained to pander to the prevailing tastes. As further evidence of the effect of patronage on art, a case in point is found in the manufacture of Venetian glass. The Venetians, centuries ago, became famous for their works in glass, and the patronage they enjoyed was world-wide; but their country being thrown into an unsettled condition, capital drifted from it, until the blowing of glass, together with other industries, was comparatively extinguished. Within recent years the art of making glass has shown signs, even in Venice itself, of reviving with all its former vigour in the workshops of Salviati, the success of which is due in great measure to English capital. With regard to English Violin manufacture, there would be no reason why Violins should not, at the present moment, be produced in England which should fully reach the standard of merit maintained in our forefathers' days, if only the patronage of the art occupied a larger area. The present dearth of English makers does not arise from any national want of talent for this particular handicraft; in fact, we have plenty of men quite as enthusiastic as our foreign friends for a vocation which, in England also, must be pronounced to be alike venerable in its antiquity and famed for the dexterity of its genius. The earliest makers of Viols in England seem to have been Jay, Smith, Bolles, Ross, Addison, and Shaw, names thoroughly British. We may take this as good evidence that the making of Viols in England originated with the English, and was not commenced by settlers from the Continent. Doubtless the form of the English Viol and its brethren was taken from the Brescian makers, there being much affinity between these classes of instruments. In the few Violins extant by Christopher Wise the Italian character is very striking. In them we see a flat model, excellent outline, and varnish of good quality. The Viols of Jay have the same Italian character. Later on we have names of some reputation--Rayman, Urquhart, and Barak Norman. In the absence of any direct evidence as regards the nationality of these makers it is requisite to endeavour to trace the style belonging to their works. It will be observed that there was a great improvement in the style of work and varnish of instruments made in England, commencing with the time of Rayman, and it is probable that this step in advance was obtained from intercourse with Italy or the German Tyrol. Starting with Rayman, there is a German ring in the name which makes me think that he came from Germany, and, if so, brought with him the semi-Italian character of work common to the makers who lived so near Brescia. If the work and style of Rayman be carefully examined, it will be seen that there is much in common with the inferior Brescian makers. The outline is rugged, the sound-hole is of that Gothic form peculiar to Brescia; the head is distinct from that of the early English type. At the same period Urquhart made instruments of great merit, the varnish of which is superior to that of Rayman, but is evidently composed of similar ingredients. Its superiority may have arisen from a different mode of mixing only. The name of Urquhart has a North British sound, and it is probable that he was born in Scotland, and settled in London as an assistant to Rayman, who would impart to him the style of foreign work. The semi-Italian character pervading the instruments made in England at this period seems to have culminated in the productions of Barak Norman, whose best works bear even a more marked Brescian character than those of Rayman. The model varies very much, sometimes being high, at other times very flat; in the latter case the results are instruments of the Maggini type. Barak Norman frequently double-purfled his instruments, and inserted a device in the purfling, evidently following Maggini in these particulars. With Barak Norman ends the list of English copyists of the Brescian makers. We now arrive at the copyists of Jacob Stainer and the Amati, a class of makers who possessed great abilities, and knew how to use them. The first name to be mentioned is Benjamin Banks, of Salisbury, who may with propriety be termed the _English Amati_. He was the first English maker who recognised the superior form of Amati's model over that of Stainer, and devoted all his energies to successful imitation. Too much praise cannot be lavished on Banks for the example which he selected for himself and his fellow-makers. Next follow the names of Forster, Duke, Hill, Wamsley, Betts, Gilkes, Hart, and Kennedy, together with those of Panormo, Fendt, and Lott, who, although not born in England, passed the greater part of their lives here, and therefore require to be classed with the English School. The mention of these makers will bring the reader to the present time. Upon scanning this goodly list, there will be found ample evidence that we in England have had makers of sufficient merit to entitle us to rank as a distinct school--a school of no mean order. We may therefore assume that the Continental writers who from time to time have published lists of makers of the Violin, and have invariably ignored England, have erred through want of information regarding the capabilities of our makers, both ancient and modern. The following list will be found to enumerate nearly the whole of the English makers, and indicate the distinctive character of their respective works. SECTION XII English Makers ABSAM, Thomas, Wakefield, 1833. Made by Thomas Absam, Wakefield, Feb. 14, 1833. ADAMS, Garmouth, Scotland, 1800. ADDISON, William, London, 1670. AIRETON, Edmund. Was originally employed in the workshop of Peter Wamsley, at the "Harp and Hautboy," in Piccadilly. He made a great many excellent Violins and Violoncellos, and chiefly copied Amati. Varnish of fair quality; colour yellow. He died at the advanced age of 80, in the year 1807. ALDRED, ----, about 1560. Maker of Viols. ASKEY, Samuel, London, about 1825. BAINES, about 1780. BAKER, ----, Oxford. Mention is made of a Viol of this maker in the catalogue of the music and instruments of Tom Britton, the small-coal man. BALLANTINE, Edinburgh and Glasgow, 1850. BANKS, Benjamin, Salisbury, born 1727, died 1795. Benjamin Banks, Musical Instrument Maker In Catherine Street, Salisbury. 1780. To this famous maker must be given the foremost place in the English School. He was a thorough artist, and would not have been thought lightly of had he worked in Cremona's school, and been judged by its standard. This may be considered excessive praise of our native maker; but an unprejudiced judge of work need only turn to the best specimens of Banks's instruments, and he will confess that I have merely recorded a _fact_. Banks is, again, one of the many instances of men who have gained a lasting reputation, but whose histories have never reached the light to which their names have attained. How interesting would it be to obtain the name of his master in the knowledge of making instruments! No clue whatever remains by which we could arrive at a satisfactory conclusion on this point. That he was an enthusiast in his art is certain, and also that he was aware to some extent that he possessed talent of no mean description. This is evidenced by the fact that many of his instruments are branded with the letters B. B. in several places, as though he felt that sooner or later his works would be highly esteemed, and would survive base imitations, and that by carefully branding them he might prevent any doubt as to their author. Many of his best instruments are found to have no brand: it would seem, therefore, that he did not so mark them for some time. He appears to have early shown a preference for the model of Niccolo Amati, and laboured unceasingly in imitation of him, until he copied him with an exactness difficult to surpass. Now that time has mellowed his best works, they might pass as original Amatis with those not perfectly versed in the characteristics of the latter. Many German makers excelled as copyists of Amati; but these makers chiefly failed in their varnish, whereas Banks was most happy in this particular, both as regards colour and quality. If his varnish be closely examined, its purity and richness of colour are readily seen. It has all the characteristics of fine Italian varnish, being beautifully transparent, mellow, and rich in its varieties of tints. It must be distinctly understood that these remarks apply only to the very finest works of this maker, there being many specimens which bear the label of Banks in the framing of which he probably took but a small share, leaving the chief part to be done by his son and others. Banks cannot be considered as having been successful in the use of his varnish on the bellies of his instruments, as he has allowed it to clog the fibre, a blemish which affects the appearance very much, and has been the means of casting discredit on the varnish among those unacquainted with the real cause. The modelling is executed with skill. Fortunately, sufficient wood has been left in his instruments to enable time to exert its beneficial effects, a desideratum overlooked by many makers of good repute. The only feature of his work which can be considered as wanting in merit is the scroll, which is somewhat cramped, and fails to convey the meaning intended, viz., the following of Amati; but as this is a point having reference to appearance, and therefore solely affecting the connoisseur, it may be passed over lightly, and the more so when we consider that Banks was not the only clever workman who has failed in head-cutting. He made Violins, Tenors, and Violoncellos, all excellent; but the last-named have the preference. His large Violoncellos are the best; those of the smaller pattern are equally well made, but lack depth of tone. The red-varnished instruments are the favourites. BANKS, Benjamin, son of the above, born in September, 1754; died January, 1820. Worked many years with his father at Salisbury, afterwards removed to London, and lived at 30, Sherrard Street, Golden Square. BANKS, James. James and Henry Banks, Musical Instrument Makers and Music Sellers, 18 Salisbury. 02 Brother of the above. For some years carried on the business of his father at Salisbury, in conjunction with his brother Henry. They ultimately sold the business and removed to Liverpool. The instruments of James and Henry Banks are of average merit. BARNES, Robert, 1710. Worked with Thomas Smith at the "Harp and Hautboy" in Piccadilly. Afterwards partner with John Norris. BARRETT, John, 1714. John Barrett, at the Harp and Crown in Pickadilly, 17-- Made by John Barrett at ye Harp & Crown in Pickadilly, London, 17-- An average workman, who followed the model of Stainer. His shop bore the sign of the "Harp and Crown." Barrett was one of the earliest copyists of Stainer, and in the chain of English makers is linked with Barak Norman and Nathaniel Cross. The wood is generally of a very good quality, the varnish yellow. BARTON, George, Old Bailey, London, about 1780-1810. BETTS, John, born 1755, at Stamford, Lincolnshire, died in 1823. Jo. Betts, No. 2, near Northgate the Royal Exchange, London, 17-- Became a pupil of Richard Duke. He commenced business in one of the shops of the Royal Exchange, where he soon enjoyed considerable patronage. John Betts does not appear to have made a great number of instruments, but employed many workmen, into whose instruments he inserted his trade label. He was, perhaps, the earliest London dealer in Italian instruments. His quaintly-worded business card runs:-- "John Betts, Real Musical Instrument Maker, at the Violin and German Flute, No. 2, under the North Piazza of the Royal Exchange, makes in the neatest manner, Violins the patterns of Antonius Stradivarius, Hieronymus Amati, Jacobus Stainer, and Tyrols. Equal for the fine, full, mellow tone to those made in Cremona. Tenors, Violoncellos, Pentachords, &c., &c., &c." The sound-holes of Betts' instruments are rather wide; broad purfling; scroll well cut. BETTS, Edward, nephew of John Betts; was a pupil of Richard Duke, whose work he copied with considerable skill. Of course, in trying to imitate Duke he was copying Amati, Richard Duke having spent his life in working after the Amati pattern, without attempting to model for himself. The care bestowed by Edward Betts on his instruments was of no ordinary kind. The workmanship throughout is of the most delicate description; indeed, it may be said that neatness is gained at the expense of individuality in many of his works. Each part is faultless in finish, but when viewed as a whole the result is too mechanical, giving as it does the notion of its having been turned out of a mould. Nevertheless, this maker takes rank with the foremost of the English copyists, and in his instruments we have as good specimens of undisguised work as can be readily found. They will be yearly more valued. [Illustration: _Plate XVII_. THE "BETTS" STRADIVARI. 1704. (R. D. WADDELL, ESQ.)] BOLLES, ----, An early maker of Lutes and Viols. BOOTH, William, 1779 to about 1858, Leeds. BOOTH, ----, son of the above, Leeds, died 1856. BOUCHER, ----, London, 1764. BROWN, James, London, born 1770, died 1834. Worked with Thomas Kennedy. BROWN, James, London, son of the above, born 1786, died 1860. BROWNE, John, London, about 1743. Worked at the sign of the "Black Lion," Cornhill. Good work. Amati pattern. Scroll well cut; hard varnish. CAHUSAC, ----, London, 1788. Associated with the sons of Banks. CARTER, John, London, 1789, worked with John Betts, and afterwards at Drury Lane on his own account. CHALLONER, Thomas, London. Similar to Wamsley. COLE, Thomas, London, 1690. Thomas Cole, near Fetter Lane In Holborn, 16-- COLE, James, Manchester, 19th century. COLLIER, Samuel, 1750. COLLIER, Thomas, 1775. COLLINGWOOD, Joseph, London, 1760. CONWAY, William, 1750. CORSBY, ----, Northampton, 1780. Chiefly made Double-Basses. CORSBY, George. Lived upwards of half a century in Princes Street, Leicester Square, where he worked and dealt in old instruments. CRAMOND, Charles, Aberdeen, 19th century. CRASK, George, Manchester. He made a large number of instruments, chiefly imitations. CROSS, Nathaniel, London, about 1700-50. Worked with Barak Norman. He made several good Violins. Purfling narrow; excellent scroll. CROWTHER, John, 1760-1810. CUTHBERT, London, 17th century. Maker of Viols and Violins. Many of the latter have merit. Model flat, and wood of good quality. Very dark varnish. DAVIDSON, Hay, Huntley, 1870. DAVIS, Richard. Worked with Norris and Barnes. DAVIS, William, London. Succeeded Richard Davis in the business now carried on by Edward Withers. DEARLOVE, Mark, Leeds. Dearlove and Fryer, Musical Instrument Manufacturers, Boar Lane, Leeds, 1828. DELANY, John, Dublin. Used two kinds of labels, one of them very small-- Made by John Delany, No. 17, Britain Street, Dublin. 1808. In the other, which is larger, he states that he made Violins that his name might be of immortal memory. Made by John Delany, In order to perpetuate his memory in future ages. Dublin. 1808. Liberty to all the world black and white. DENNIS, Jesse, London, 1805. DEVEREUX, John, Melbourne. When in England he worked with B. Simon Fendt. DICKINSON, Edward, London, 1750. Made instruments of average merit. The model is high. Edward Dickinson, Maker, at the Harp and Crown in the Strand, near Exeter Change, London. 17-- DICKESON, John, 1750-80, a native of Stirling. He would seem to have lived in various places, some instruments dating from London and some from Cambridge. He was an excellent workman, and chiefly copied Amati. His work much resembles that of Cappa. DITTON, London, about 1700. Mention is made of an instrument by this maker in Tom Britton's Catalogue. DODD, Thomas, son of Edward Dodd, of Sheffield. T. Dodd, Violin, Violoncello and Bow Maker, New Street, Covent Garden. He was not a maker of Violins. Numerous instruments bear his name, but they are the work of John Lott and Bernard Fendt. The merit of these instruments is of the highest order, and they are justly appreciated by both player and connoisseur. Thomas Dodd deserves to be mentioned in terms of high praise, notwithstanding that the work was not executed by him, for his judgment was brought to bear upon the manufacture during its various stages, and more particularly in the varnishing, in which he took the liveliest interest. He had a method of mixing colours, the superior qualities of which he seems to have fully known, if we may judge from the note on his labels, which runs thus: "The only possessor of the recipe for preparing the original Cremona varnish. Instruments improved and repaired." This undoubtedly savours of presumption, and is certainly wide of the truth. Nevertheless there is ample evidence that the varnish used by Thomas Dodd was very excellent, and had a rich appearance rarely to be met with in instruments of the English school. Dodd was encouraged in the art of varnish-making by persons of taste, who readily admitted the superior qualities of his composition, and paid him a handsome price for his instruments. He was thus enabled to gratify his taste in his productions by sparing no means to improve them. He ultimately attained such a reputation for his instruments as to command no less a sum than 40 or 50 pounds for a Violoncello. Commanding such prices, it is evident that he spared no expense, or, what was to him a matter of still greater importance, no time. He was most particular in receiving the instruments in that incomplete stage known in the trade as "in the white," _i.e._, without varnish. He would then carefully varnish them with his own hands, guarding most warily the treasured secret of the composition of his varnish. That he never departed from this practice may be inferred from the fact that the varnish made by the workmen in his employ, apart from the establishment, for their own instruments, is of an entirely different stamp, and evidently shows that they were not in their master's secrets. The instruments bearing the Dodd label are not valued to the extent of their deserts, and there can be but little doubt that in the course of time they will be valued according to their true merits. They were made by men of exceptional talent, who were neither restricted in price nor material. Under such favourable conditions the results could not fail to be good. DODD, Thomas, London. Son of Thomas Dodd, musical instrument dealer, of St. Martin's Lane. The father, although not a maker of Violins, possessed excellent judgment, both as regards work and makers, which enabled his son to profit considerably during his early years whilst working with Fendt and Lott. DORANT, William, London, 1814. DUKE, Richard, worked from 1750-80. Richd. Duke, Londoni fecit 17-- Richard Duke, Maker, Holborn, London. Ann. 17-- The name of this maker has long been a household word with English Violinists both amateur and professional. Who has not got a friend who is the fortunate owner of a veritable "Duke"? The fame of His Majesty Antonio Stradivari himself is not greater than that of Richard Duke in the eyes of many a Fiddle fancier. From his earliest fiddling days the name of Duke became familiar to him; he has heard more of him than of Stradivari, whom he somehow confuses with Cremona. He fondly imagines that Cremona was a celebrated _maker_, and Stradivari something else; inquires, and becomes more confused, and returns again to "Duke," with whom he is thoroughly at home. Many excellent judges have wondered how it came to pass that Richard Duke should have been so highly valued, there being, in their estimation, so little amongst his remains worthy of the reputation he gained. The truth is that no maker, with the exception of the great Cremonese artists, has been so persistently counterfeited. The name of Duke has been stamped upon every wretched nondescript, until judges who had not the opportunity of seeing the genuine article mistook the copies for the original, and hence the confusion. When, however, a really fine specimen of Duke is once seen, it is not likely to be forgotten. As copies of Amati such instruments are scarcely surpassed, varnish, work, and material being of the best description. The copies of Stainer were not so successful. DUKE, Richard, London. Son of the above. DUNCAN, ----, Aberdeen, 1762. DUNCAN, George, Glasgow, contemporary. EGLINGTON, ----, London, 1800. EVANS, Richard, London, 1750. His label is a curiosity-- Maid in the Paris of Lanirhengel, by Richard Evans, Instrument maker, in the year 17-- FENDT, Bernard, born at Innsbruck, in the Tyrol, 1756, died 1832. He was evidently a born Fiddle-maker, genius being stamped, in a greater or less degree, upon all his works. To Thomas Dodd belongs the credit of bringing his talent into play. Dodd obtained the services of Fendt upon his arrival in England, which the latter reached at an early age. He remained with Dodd many years, frequently making instruments with John Frederick Lott. The instruments so made bear the label of Thomas Dodd. Lott being also a German, reciprocity of feeling sprung up between him and Fendt, which induced Lott to exchange the business to which he was brought up for that which his fellow countryman Fendt had adopted, and henceforth to make Violins instead of cabinets. By securing the services of these admirable workmen, Dodd reaped a rich harvest. He found in them men capable of carrying out his instructions with an exactness that could not be surpassed. Dodd was unable to use the tools himself; but in Fendt and Lott he had men who were consummate masters of them. When the instruments were finished, as far as construction was concerned, they were clothed in coats of the master's livery--"Dodd's varnish," the secret of making which he kept carefully to himself. With these coats of varnish upon them the work was doubly effective, and every point of excellence was made to shine with the happiest effect. Upon leaving the workshop of Thomas Dodd, Bernard Fendt worked for John Betts, making many of those copies of Amati which are associated with the name of Betts, and which have so high a value. Although Fendt was German by birth, his style of work cannot be considered as German in character. Having early quitted his post of trade in Paris for England, and having in this country placed himself under the guidance of Dodd, who steadfastly kept before his workmen the originals of the great Italian masters for models, his work acquired a distinctive stamp of its own, and in its turn gave rise to a new and independent class of makers. FENDT, Bernard Simon, London, born in 1800, died in 1852. Son of the above. He was an excellent workman. It is to be regretted that he did not follow the excellent example set by his father, and let time do its work, without interruption, upon his instruments. Had he done so they would, in many instances, have been equal to those of his parent; but, unfortunately, he worked when the mania for obtaining supposed maturity by artificial means was at its height, and shared the general infatuation, and, in consequence, very frequently destroyed all the stamina of his instruments. Subsequently he became a partner of George Purdy, and carried on a joint business at Finch Lane, in the City of London, from whence most of his best instruments date. Purdy and Fendt had also a shop in the West End about 1843. He was a most assiduous worker. The number of Violins, Tenors, Violoncellos, and Double-Basses that he made was very great; indeed, his reputation would have been greater had he been content to have made fewer instruments and to have exercised more general care. His copies of Guarneri are most numerous, numbering some hundreds. They are mostly varnished with a glaring red colour, of a hard nature. He made many good Double-Basses of the Gasparo da Salo form, the varnish on which is superior to that on his Violins. He made also an excellent quartette of instruments--Violin, Viola, Violoncello, and Double-Bass--for the Exhibition of 1851. They were certainly the best contemporary instruments exhibited, but he failed to obtain the prize medal. FENDT, Martin, London, born 1812, died 1845. Brother of the above. Worked for Betts. FENDT, Jacob, London, born 1815, died 1849. Third son of Bernard Fendt. The best maker among the sons of Bernard. His instruments are beautifully finished, and free from the stereotyped character belonging to those of his brother Bernard. As specimens of the imitator's art they are unsurpassed. One cannot but regret that such a consummate workman should have been obliged to waste his energies in making new work resemble that of a hundred years before. The patronage that he obtained was not of much value, but had he brought his work into the market in its natural condition he could not have lived by his trade. He was, therefore, compelled to foster that which he no doubt felt to be degrading. The copies of Stradivari by Jacob Fendt are among his best efforts. The work is well done; the discoloration of the wood cleverly managed, the effects of wear counterfeited with greater skill than had ever been done before, and finally, an amount of style is thrown into the work which transcends the ingenuity of any other copyist. Had he been allowed to copy the form of the old masters, as Lupot did, without imitating the actual wear of the instrument, we should have had a valuable addition to our present stock of instruments of the Panormo class. FENDT, Francis, London. Fourth son of Bernard; also worked in Liverpool about 1856. FENDT, William, London, born 1833, died 1852. Son of Bernard Simon Fendt. Was an excellent workman, and assisted his father in the manufacture of several of his Double-Basses. FERGUSON, Donald, Huntley, Aberdeenshire. FIRTH, G., Leeds, 1836. FORSTER, William, born in 1713, died 1801. William Forster, Violin Maker, in Brampton. The family of the Forsters have played no unimportant part in the history of Violins. The attention they commanded as makers, both from artists and amateurs, has probably never been equalled in England. Their instruments claimed attention from the moment they left their makers' hands, their construction being excellent in every way. William Forster was a native of Brampton, in Cumberland, where he followed the trade of a spinning-wheel maker, occupying his spare time in the making and repairing of Violins and musical instruments generally. His labours, as far as they relate to Violin-making, appear to have been of a very unpretending nature, but they served to impart a taste for the art to his son William, who was the best maker of the family. FORSTER, William, London, born 1739, died 1807. William Forster, Violin Maker, in St. Martin's Lane, London, 17-- Son of William Forster mentioned above. Worked with his father at Brampton in Cumberland, making spinning-wheels and Violins--two singularly diverse occupations. It was, however, to the latter industry he gave the most attention, and he soon became the great maker of the neighbourhood. He afterwards added another string to his bow, viz., that of playing country-dances at the village festivities. Thus armed with three occupations, he must have been well employed. He seems to have early discovered that his abilities required a larger field in which to show themselves to advantage, and accordingly took the usual course in such circumstances--came to the Metropolis, in which he settled about the year 1759. He soon obtained employment at a musical instrument seller's on Tower Hill, and gave up, then and for ever, the making of spinning-wheels, while by throwing all his soul into the manufacture of Violins he soon gave his master's patrons the highest satisfaction. He ultimately commenced business on his own behalf in the neighbourhood of Duke's Court, St. Martin's Lane, where his abilities attracted considerable attention, and secured him the patronage of the _dilettanti_ in the musical world. For several years he followed the path trodden by the makers of the period, and copied Stainer. His instruments of this date are very excellent both in workmanship and material, but are not equal to those of the Amati pattern, which he commenced to make about the year 1770. These are beautiful works, and have a great charm from their being so varied. Some are copies of Antonio and Girolamo Amati, variously modelled; others are copies of Niccolo Amati. The wood and varnish also vary very much, but the high standard of goodness is well maintained throughout. His varnish was, during the last twenty years of his life, very fine in quality, and in the manufacture of it he is said to have been assisted by a friend who was an excellent chemist. He made only four Double-Basses, three of which were executed for the private band of George III. Forster's instruments were the favourite equipment of Robert Lindley, and their value in his day was relatively far higher than at the present moment. When Lindley died attention was turned to Italian Violoncellos, and a vast number having been brought to England, the value of Forster's productions was very considerably depreciated; now, however, that the cultivation of stringed instrument music has been so much extended, they are rapidly rising again to their former level, Italian instruments being a luxury not obtainable by every one, and age having so benefited the tone of Forster's Violoncellos as to render them excellent substitutes. FORSTER, William, London, born in 1764, died 1824. William Forster, Junr., Violin, Violoncello, Tenor & Bow Maker, 18-- Also Music Seller No 43 to their Royal Highnesses the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Cumberland. Son of William Forster, the second of the family. Although this maker did not attain to the celebrity of his father, his instruments are often fully as good. The workmanship is very neat, and the modelling excellent, the varnish being equal to that on his father's instruments. FORSTER, William, London, born in 1788, died 1824. Son of William Forster, mentioned above. He was a very good workman: he made but few instruments. FORSTER, Simon Andrew, London, born in 1801, died about 1870. Brother of William, mentioned above. He learned his business from his father and Samuel Gilkes, who worked for William Forster. He made several instruments between the years 1828 and 1840, which are of average merit. Best known as joint author with W. Sandys of a "History of the Violin" (London, 1864). FRANKLAND, ----, London, about 1785. FURBER, ----, London. John Furber, Maker, 13, John's Row, top of Brick Lane, Old St., Saint Luke. 1813. There were several makers of this family, some of whom worked for Betts, of the Royal Exchange. Many of their instruments are excellent, and should unquestionably be more valued than they are. John Furber made several Violins of the grand Amati pattern, and also copied with much ability the "Betts" Stradivari, when the instrument belonged to Messrs. Betts in the Royal Exchange, for whom he worked. FURBER, Henry John, son of John Furber, London. He has made several excellent instruments, and maintained the character for good workmanship which has been associated with the name of Furber for upwards of a century. GIBBS, James, 1800-45. Worked for Samuel Gilkes and others. GILKES, Samuel, London, born in 1787, died in 1827. Gilkes. From Forster's, Violin and Violoncello Maker, 34, James Street, Buckingham Gate, Westminster. Was born at Morton Pinkney, in Northamptonshire. He became an apprentice of Charles Harris, whose style he followed to some extent. Upon leaving Harris he engaged himself to William Forster, making many instruments for him, retaining, however, all the features of the style of Harris. In the year 1810 he left the workshop of Forster, and commenced business on his own account in James Street, Buckingham Gate, where the few instruments bearing his name were made. Too much cannot be said in praise of much of the work of this excellent maker. The exquisite finish of many of his instruments evidences that the making of them was to him a labour of love. Amati was his favourite model. GILKES, William, London, born 1811, died 1875. Son of Samuel Gilkes. Has made a great number of instruments of various patterns, chiefly Double-Basses. GOUGH, Walter. An indifferent workman. HARBOUR, ----, London, about 1785. HARDIE, Matthew, Edinburgh, date from about 1800. He was the best maker Scotland has had. The model is that of Amati; the work throughout excellent. The linings are mostly of cedar. He died about 1825-26. HARDIE, Thomas, Edinburgh. Worked with his father, Matthew Hardie. He was born in 1804, died 1856. HARE, John, London. About 1700. His label shows that he was in partnership, his name being joined to that of Freeman, and the address is given as "Near the Royal Exchange, Cornhill, London." Much resembles the work and style of Urquhart. Varnish of fine quality. HARE, Joseph, London, probably a son of John Hare, above-mentioned. Varnish of excellent quality. Joseph Hare, at ye Viol and Flute, near the Royal Exchange, in Cornhill, London. 172-- HARRIS, Charles, London, 1800. This maker is known only to a few dealers, as he made chiefly for the wholesale merchants of his day. His name was rarely affixed to his instruments, but those thoroughly acquainted with his work agree in giving him a foremost place among the makers of this country. He was, like many other makers of that period, engaged in two occupations differing very much from each other, being at the same time a Custom-house officer and a maker of Violins. The former circumstance brought him into contact with mercantile men, and enabled him to obtain commissions to make Violins for the export trade. His business in this direction so increased that he obtained the services of his relative, Samuel Gilkes, as his assistant. He never aimed at producing a counterpart of the instrument that he copied by resorting to the use of deleterious means to indicate upon the surface of an instrument the ravages of time. He faithfully copied the form, and thus did what Lupot was doing at the same period. The finish of these instruments is excellent, and as they are covered with a good quality of varnish, they have every recommendation of appearance. HARRIS, Charles. Son of the above. Neat workmanship. Well-cut scroll. Sound-holes not well formed. Yellow varnish. Worked for a short time for John Hart. [Illustration: _Plate XVIII_. GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESU. (THE "VIEUXTEMPS.") ANTONIO STRADIVARI (INLAID). Date 1687. (FROM THE PLOWDEN COLLECTION.)] HART, John Thomas, born December 17, 1805, died January 1, 1874. John Hart, Maker, 14, Princes Street, Leicester Square, London. Anno 18-- He was articled to Samuel Gilkes in May, 1820, of whom he learned the mechanical branch of his profession. He afterwards centred his attention upon the peculiar characteristics of the Cremonese and Italian Violin-makers generally, and in a comparatively brief space of time obtained an extensive acquaintance in that direction. His unerring eye and powerful memory of instruments once brought under his notice secured for him the highest position among the connoisseurs of his time. Commencing business at a period when the desire to possess instruments by the famous Italian makers was becoming general among amateurs, and being peculiarly fortunate in securing an early reputation as a judge of them, he became the channel through which the greater part of the rare Italian works passed into England, and it has frequently been said that there are very few distinguished instruments in Europe with which he was unacquainted. Among the remarkable collections that he brought together may be mentioned that of the late Mr. James Goding, the remnant of which was dispersed by Messrs. Christie and Manson in 1857; the small but exquisite collection of Mr. Charles Plowden, consisting of four Violins of Stradivari and four of Guarneri, with other instruments of less merit, the whole of which again passed into Mr. Hart's possession upon the death of their owner; and, lastly, a large portion of the well-known collection of the late Mr. Joseph Gillot, sold by Christie and Manson shortly after the famous sale of pictures belonging to the same collector. HAYNES, Jacob, London, 1746. Copied Stainer. The style resembles that of Barrett. HEESOM, Edward, London, 1748. Copied Stainer. HILL, Joseph, London, 1715-84. Pupil of Peter Wamsley. His Violoncellos and Tenors are well-made instruments. Joseph Hill, Maker, at the Harp and Flute, in the Hay Market. London. HILL, William, London, 1741. Son of the above. Very good work. William Hill, Maker, in Poland Street, near Broad Street, 17-- HILL, Joseph, London, 1800-40. Son of the above. HILL, Lockey, London, 1800-35. Brother of the above. Made many excellent instruments. HILL, William Ebsworth, London, 1817-95. Son of Lockey Hill. Made several instruments in his younger days, but, like the rest of our English makers, he long since discovered that new work was unremunerative, and turned his attention to repairing and dealing in old instruments, and became the founder of the well-known firm of W. E. Hill and Sons, of Bond Street. He exhibited at the Exhibition of 1862 a Violin and Tenor, thus showing that Violin-making was not quite extinguished in England. HOLLOWAY, J., London, 1794. HUME, Richard, Edinburgh, 16th century. A maker of Lutes, &c. JAY, Henry, London, 17th century. Maker of Viols, which are capital specimens of the work of the period. The varnish is excellent. JAY, Thomas, London. Related to the above. Excellent work. JAY, Henry, London, about 1744-77. Made by Henry Jay, in Long Acre, London. 1746. A maker of Kits chiefly. At this period these juvenile Violins were in much demand by dancing-masters. A few years ago a very choice collection of these instruments was made by an Irish gentleman residing at Paris, who obtained specimens from all parts of Europe. Henry Jay also made Violoncellos, some of which have the names of Longman and Broderip on the back. JOHNSON, John, London, 1750. Made and sold by John Johnson, at the Harp and Crown, in Cheapside, 17 London. 53 The Violins bearing his label are dated from Cheapside. Johnson was a music and musical instrument seller. In "The Professional Life of Dibdin," written by himself, we have the following reference to this City music-seller: "My brother introduced me to old Johnson, who at that time kept a capital music-shop in Cheapside.[1] I soon, however, grew tired of an attendance on him. He set me down to tune Harpsichords, a mere mechanical employment, not at all to my taste." "I saw plainly that I might have screwed up Harpsichords in old Johnson's shop to all eternity, without advancing my fortune; and as to the songs and sonatas that I brought him for sale, they had not been performed at the theatres nor Vauxhall, nor any other place, and Johnson would not print them." "The Thompsons, however, of St. Paul's Churchyard, published six ballads for me, which sold at three-halfpence a-piece, and for the copyright of which they generously gave me three guineas." Though we may not feel disposed to apply the term "generous" to a payment of half-a-guinea for a Dibdin ballad, yet in all probability we are indebted to the Thompsons for this particular recognition of merit. Happily true genius, when in straits, generally finds relief. Were it otherwise, and had the Thompsons been as deaf to Dibdin as John Johnson appears to have been, "Tom Bowling," "Poor Jack," and many other compositions of sterling merit, might never have been written.[2] [Footnote 1: Dibdin's brother was captain of a merchant vessel, and was intimate with Johnson the music-seller. On the death of Captain Dibdin his brother composed "Tom Bowling," the music and words of which bespeak the fraternal love of the composer.] [Footnote 2: Dibdin was evidently discouraged in consequence of Johnson's refusal to publish his songs: he says, "After I had broken off with Johnson, I had some idea of turning my thoughts to merchants' accounts--the very last thing upon earth for which I was calculated."] KENNEDY, Alexander, London, 1700-86. Was a native of Scotland. He was the first maker of Violins in his family, which was connected with the manufacture for nearly two centuries. Alexander Kennedy, Musical Instrument Maker, living in Market Street, in Oxford Road, London, 17-- KENNEDY, John, London, born 1730; died 1816. Nephew of Alexander Kennedy. Made Violins and Tenors. KENNEDY, Thomas, London, born 1784; died about 1870. Son of the above. Probably made more instruments than any English maker, with the exception of Crask. LENTZ, Johann Nicolaus, London, 1803. He used mostly one kind of wood, viz., close-grained maple. Varnish nearly opaque. Johann Nicolaus Lentz, fecit near the Church, Chelsea. 1803. LEWIS, Edward, London, 1700. The work is well executed throughout, and the varnish superior. LISTER, George, 18th century. LONGMAN AND BRODERIP, Cheapside, London, about 1760. They were music-publishers and instrument-sellers, and were not Violin-makers. Benjamin Banks, Jay, and others, made many of the instruments upon which the name of Longman is stamped. Muzio Clementi was at one time a partner in the firm. The business ultimately passed to Collard and Collard. LOTT, John Frederick, 1775-1853. Was a German by birth. He was engaged in the cabinet business early in life. He was induced by Fendt to turn his attention to making Violins, and ultimately obtained employment under Thomas Dodd, making many of the Violoncellos and Double-Basses that carry the label of Dodd within them. His work was of a most finished description. His Double-Basses are splendid instruments, and will bear comparison with Italian work. His varnish was far from equal to his finish. The time he spent in making these instruments was double that which any other English maker expended over similar work. There is not a single portion of any of his Double-Basses that has been carelessly made; the interior is as beautifully finished as the exterior. The machines on many of his Basses were made by himself--a very unusual circumstance. The scrolls are finely cut. He was certainly the king of the English Double-Bass makers. LOTT, George Frederick, London, born 1800; died 1868. Son of the above. Many years with Davis, of Coventry Street. Was an excellent judge of Italian instruments, and a clever imitator. LOTT, John Frederick, London, younger brother of the above, died about 1871. Was articled to Davis. Has made many clever imitations. He was also an ardent lover of Cremonese instruments, and thoroughly understood their characteristics. His career was both chequered and curious, sufficiently so, indeed, to cause our eminent novelist, Charles Reade, to make it the subject of "Jack of all Trades: a Matter-of-Fact Romance." Jack Lott (as he was familiarly styled) therefore shares with Jacob Stainer the honour of having supplied subject-matter for writers of fiction. It must, however, be said that whilst Dr. Schuler's "Jacob Stainer" is mainly pure fiction, "Jack of all Trades" is rightly entitled "a matter-of-fact romance." I have many times heard John Lott relate the chief incidents so graphically described by Charles Reade. MACINTOSH, Dublin. Succeeded Perry and Wilkinson. Died about 1840. MARSHALL, John, London, 1750. MARTIN, ----, London, about 1790. MAYSON, Walter H., Manchester, 1835-1904. A prolific maker. His later work is highly spoken of. MEARES, Richard, about 1677. Maker of Viols. Richard Meares, without Bishopsgate, near to Sir Paul Pinder's, London. Fecit 1677. MIER, ----, London, about 1786. MORRISON, John, London, about 1780-1803. NAYLOR, Isaac, Headingly, near Leeds, about 1778-92. NICHOLS, Edward, 18th century. Edwardus Nichols, Fecit ad exemplar Antoni Straduarii Cremonensis, 1763. NORBORN, John, London, about 1723. NORMAN, Barak, London, 1688-1740. Barak Norman and Nathaniel Cross, at the Bass Viol in St. Paul's Church Yard, London. Fecit 172-- The instruments of this maker are among the best of the Old English school. His instructor in the art of Viol and Violin-making is unknown, but judging from the character of his work it is very probable he learned from Thomas Urquhart. This opinion is strengthened upon examining his earliest instruments. We there find the same peculiarities which mark the individuality of Urquhart. Later in life he leaned much to the model of Maggini. During his early years he was much esteemed as a maker of Viols, many of which have all the marks of careful work upon them. On all of these instruments will be found his name, surrounded with a design in purfling, under the finger-board, or his monogram executed in purfling. The same trade token will be found in his Violoncellos. All endeavours to discover any existing English Violoncello, or record of one, anterior to Barak Norman, have failed, and, consequently, it may be assumed that he was the first maker of that instrument in England. Here, again, is evidence of his partiality for the form of Maggini, as he copied this maker in nearly all his Violoncellos. All the Violoncellos of Barak Norman have bellies of good quality; the modelling is executed skilfully, due care having been observed in leaving sufficient wood. His Tenors are fine instruments. Many of these were made years before he began the Violoncellos--a fact which satisfactorily accounts for the marked difference in form peculiar to them. The build is higher, and the sound-hole German in character; the varnish is very dark. About the year 1715 Barak Norman entered into partnership with Nathaniel Cross, carrying on the joint business at the sign of the Bass Viol, St. Paul's Churchyard. In a Viol da Gamba which belonged to Walter Brooksbank, Esq., of Windermere, is a label in the handwriting of Nathaniel Cross, in which he adds the power of speech to the qualities of the quaint Gamba; the words are, "Nathaniel Cross wrought my back and belly," the sides and scroll being the work of his partner. NORRIS, John, London, born 1739; died 1818. Made by Norris and Barnes, Violin, Violoncello, and Bow Makers, To their Majesties, Coventry Street, London. Articled to Thomas Smith, the successor of Peter Wamsley. Similar work to that of Thomas Smith. He became a partner of Robert Barnes. PAMPHILON, Edward, London, 17th century. Edward Pamphilon, April the 3rd, 1685. The Violins of this maker were formerly much prized. The model is very high, and the appearance somewhat grotesque. It is to be regretted that the splendid varnish often found on these instruments was not put upon better work. PANORMO, Vincent. (_See_ Italian School.) PANORMO, Joseph, London. Son of Vincent Panormo. His work was excellent. His Violoncellos are decidedly superior to his Violins. PANORMO, George Lewis, London. Brother of the above. Made Violins of the Stradivari pattern. PANORMO, Louis, London. Made Guitars chiefly. PARKER, Daniel, London, 18th century. This is another maker of the English school, who was possessed of exceptional talent, and whose instruments are well worthy of attention from those in search of good Violins at a moderate cost. To Parker belongs, in conjunction with Benjamin Banks, the merit of breaking through the prejudice so long in favour of preference for the Stainer model. The dates of his instruments extend from the year 1740 to 1785. He left his Violins thick in wood, which has certainly enhanced their value now that time has ripened them. He used excellent material, which is often very handsome. The varnish is of a mellow quality, and fairly transparent. A large number of these Violins have been passing under other makers' names, and have been but little noticed. PEARCE, James, London, 18th century. PEARCE, W., London, contemporary. PEMBERTON, Edward, London, 1660. This maker has been often mentioned as the author of a Violin said to have been presented to the Earl of Leicester by Queen Elizabeth, and to suit this legend Pemberton's era has been put back a century. The date given above will be found in the Violins of this maker. PERRY AND WILKINSON, Dublin, 17-- to 1830. The instruments bearing the labels of these makers are frequently excellent in tone, material, and finish. POWELL, Thomas, London, 18th century. Made by Thomas Powell, No. 18, Clemens Lane, Clare Market. 1793. PRESTON, London, about 1724. Appears to have used his trade label in the instruments he sold, made by makers he employed. PRESTON, John, York, 18th century. John Preston, York, 1791. Fecit. RAWLINS, Henry, London, about 1781. Restauratus Henricus Rawlins Auspicio Giardini Londini 1781. He appears to have been patronised by Giardini, the Violinist, according to the label here given. Giardini held the post of leader at the Italian Opera at this period. RAYMAN, Jacob, London, 17th century. Jacob Rayman dwelling in Blackman Street, Long--Southwark. 1641. Jacob Rayman, at ye Bell Yard in Southwark, London, 1648. The subject of this notice was probably a German, from the Tyrol, who settled in England about 1620, and may be considered as the founder of Violin-making in this country, there being no trace of any British Violin-maker previous to that time. His work is quite different from that of the old English Viol-makers. The instruments of Rayman are of a somewhat rough exterior, but full of character. The form is flat, considering the general style of the work. The sound-holes are striking, although not graceful in any way. The scroll is diminutive, but well cut. The varnish is very fine. In the catalogue of the effects of Tom Britton, mention is made of "an extraordinary Rayman." RICHARDS, Edwin, London, contemporary. Maker and repairer. ROOK, Joseph, Carlisle, about 1800. ROSSE (or Ross), John, Bridewell, London, about 1562. Made Viols and Bandoras. ROSS, John, London, about 1596. Son of the above. Maker of Viols. The varnish is excellent in quality. SHAW, London, 1655. Viol maker. SIMPSON, London, 1785. John Simpson, Musical Instrument Maker, At the Bass Viol and Flute, In Sweeting's Alley, Opposite the East door of the Royal Exchange, London. SMITH, Henry, London, 1629. Maker of Viols. SMITH, Thomas, London. Pupil of Peter Wamsley, and his successor at the Harp and Hautboy. Made by Thos. Smith, at the Harp and Hautboy, in Pickadilly, London. 1756. SMITH, William, London, about 1770. TARR, William, Manchester. Made many Double-Basses from about 1829. TAYLOR, London, about 1800. A maker of much merit. Instruments of the character of Panormo. THOMPSON, London, 1749. THOROWGOOD, Henry, London. Little known. TILLEY, Thomas, London, about 1774. TOBIN, Richard, London, 1800. Pupil of Perry, of Dublin. His instruments are much appreciated by the best judges. In cutting a scroll he was unequalled amongst English makers. TOBIN, London. Son of the above. URQUHART, London, 17th century. Nothing is known concerning the history of this excellent maker. The style may be considered as resembling that of Jacob Rayman, and it is possible he worked with him. His varnish is equal to that on many Italian instruments. VALENTINE, William, London, died about 1877. Made many Double-Basses for Mr. Hart, which are highly valued. WAMSLEY, Peter, London, 18th century. One of the best English makers. His copies of Stainer are very superior. Made by Peter Wamsley, At ye Golden Harp, in Piccadilly, London. 17-- WISE, Christopher, London, about 1650. Yellow varnish, neat workmanship, flat model, small pattern. WITHERS, Edward, Coventry Street. Succeeded William Davis. WITHERS, Edward. Son of the above. Wardour Street, Soho. Was instructed by John Lott. YOUNG, London, about 1728. Lived in St. Paul's Churchyard. Purcell has immortalised father and son in the first volume of his Catches. "You scrapers who want a good Fiddle well strung, You must go to the man that is old while he's Young; But if this same Fiddle you fain would play bold, You must go to his son, who'll be Young when he's old. There's old Young and young Young, both men of renown, Old sells, and young plays, the best Fiddles in town; Young and old live together, and may they live long, Young, to play an old Fiddle; old, to sell a new song." SECTION XIII The Violin and its Votaries Sterne (himself a votary of the Fiddle) has well said, "Have not the wisest of men in all ages, not excepting Solomon himself, had their hobby-horses--their running-horses, their coins and their cockle-shells, their drums and their trumpets, their Fiddles, their pallets, their maggots and their butterflies? And so long as a man rides his hobby-horse peaceably and quietly along the king's highway, and neither compels you nor me to get up behind him,--pray, sir, what have either you or I to do with it?" He further tell us, "There is no disputing against hobby-horses;" and adds, "I seldom do: nor could I, with any sort of grace, had I been an enemy to them at the bottom; happening at certain intervals and changes of the moon, to be both Fiddler and painter." [Illustration: _Plate XIX_. GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESU. 1733. GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESU. 1741. (LATE R. D. HAWLEY, ESQ.) ANTONIO STRADIVARI. 1726.] The leading instrument is singularly favoured. It may be said to have a double existence. In addition to its manifold capabilities, it has its life of activity on the one hand, and inactivity on the other. At one time it is cherished for its powers of giving pleasure to the ear, at another for the gratification it affords to the eye. Sometimes it is happily called upon to perform its double part--giving delight to both senses. When this is so, its existence is indeed a happy one. The Violin thus occupies a different position from all other musical instruments. Far more than any other musical instrument it enters into the life of the player. It may almost be said to live and move about with him; the treasure-house of his tenderest and deepest emotions, the symbol of his own better self. Moreover, the Violin is a curiosity as well as a mechanical contrivance. Thus it is cherished, perhaps for its old associations--it may have been the companion of a valued friend, or it may be prized as a piece of artistic work, or it may be valued, independently of other associations, for the simple purpose for which it was made, viz., to answer the will of the player when touched with the bow. The singular powers centred in the Violin have been beautifully expressed by Oliver Wendell Holmes, who says: "Violins, too. The sweet old Amati! the divine Stradivari! played on by ancient maestros until the bow hand lost its power, and the flying fingers stiffened. Bequeathed to the passionate young enthusiast, who made it whisper his hidden love, and cry his inarticulate longings, and scream his untold agonies, and wail his monotonous despair. Passed from his dying hand to the cold _virtuoso_, who let it slumber in its case for a generation, till, when his hoard was broken up, it came forth once more, and rode the stormy symphonies of royal orchestras, beneath the rushing bow of their lord and leader. Into lonely prisons with improvident artistes; into convents from which arose, day and night, the holy hymns with which its tones were blended; and back again to orgies, in which it learned to howl and laugh as if a legion of devils were shut up in it; then, again, to the gentle _dilettante_, who calmed it down with easy melodies until it answered him softly as in the days of the old maestros; and so given into our hands, its pores all full of music, stained, like the meerschaum, through and through with the concentrated hue and sweetness of all the harmonies which have kindled and faded on its strings." The gifted author of "The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table" has evidently made himself acquainted with the various life-phases of a Violin. The fancy for the Violin as a curiosity has been a matter of slow growth, and has reached its present proportions solely from the intrinsic merits of its object. The Violin has not come suddenly to occupy the attention of the curious, like many things that might be named, which have served to satisfy a taste for the collection of what is rare or whimsical, and to which an artificial value has been imparted. In those days when the old Brescian and Cremonese makers flourished, the only consideration was the tone-producing quality of their instruments; the Violin had not then taken its place among curiosities. The instruments possessing the desired qualities were sought out until their scarcity made them legitimate food for the curious. Beauties, hitherto passed over, began to be appreciated, the various artistic points throughout the work of each valued maker were noted, and in due time Violins had their connoisseurs as well as their players. Besides Italy, England, France, and Germany have had their great men in the Fiddle world, whose instruments have ever been classed as objects of _virtu_. Mace, in his "Musick's Monument," published in 1676, gives, perhaps, the earliest instance of curiosity prices in England. "Your best provision (and most compleat) will be a good chest of Viols; six in number, viz., two Basses, two Tenors, and two Trebles, all truly and proportionally suited; of such there are no better in the world than those of Aldred, Jay, Smith; (yet the highest in esteem are) Bolles and Ross (one Bass of Bolles I have known valued at 100 pounds). These were old." From the above curious extract we glean that the Fiddle family was receiving some attention. The makers in England whose instruments seem to have reached curiosity prices are Bolles, Jay, Barak Norman, Duke, Wamsley, Banks, and Forster: the value attached at different periods to the works of these men has nearly approached the prices of Cremonese work. Of course, the high value set upon the instruments of the makers above named was confined to England. Turning to France, we find that many of the old French makers' instruments brought prices greatly in excess of their original cost. The favourite French makers were Medard, Boquay, Pierray, of the old school, and Lupot and Pique of the modern. In Germany there have been makers whose works have brought very high prices. Stainer, Albani, Widhalm, Scheinlein, are names that will serve to associate high values with German work. In the case of Jacob Stainer, the celebrity of his instruments was not confined to Germany; they were highly prized by the English and French, and at one period were more valued than the best Amatis. It was not until the vast superiority of Italian Violins over all others was thoroughly recognised, that the love of the instrument as a curiosity reached its present climax. In Italy, the value set upon the chief Cremonese works, though great, was comparatively insignificant, as far as the Italians themselves are concerned, and when France and England came into competition with them for the possession of their Violins by Amati, Stradivari, Guarneri, and the gems of other makers, they at once yielded the contest. The introduction of Italian instruments into Great Britain was a matter of slow growth, and did not assume any proportions worthy of notice until the commencement of the present century, when London and Paris became the chief marts from whence the rare works of the old Italians were distributed over Europe. By this time the taste of the Fiddle world had undergone a considerable change. The instruments in use among the _dilettanti_ in France and England had hitherto been those built on the German model of the school of Jacob Stainer. The great German maker was copied with but little intermission for upwards of a century, dating from about 1700 to 1800, a period of such considerable extent as to evidence the popularity of the model. Among the Germans who were following in the footsteps of Stainer were the family of Kloz, Widhalm, Statelmann, and others of less repute. In England there was quite an army of Stainer-worshippers. There were Peter Wamsley, Barrett, Benjamin Banks, the Forsters, Richard Duke, and a whole host of little men. Among the makers mentioned there are three, viz., Banks, Forster, and Richard Duke, who did not copy Stainer steadfastly. Their early instruments are of the German form, but later they made many copies of the Cremonese. To Benjamin Banks we are indebted for having led the English makers to adopt the pattern of Amati. He had long laboured to popularise the school which he so much loved, but met with little encouragement in the beginning, so strong was the prejudice in favour of the high model. However, he triumphed in the end, and completely revolutionised the taste in England, till our Fiddle-fanciers became total ab-_Stainers_! Then commenced the taste for instruments of flat form. Where were they to be found? If the few by the early English makers be excepted, there were none but those of the Italians to be had, and perhaps a few old French specimens. Attention was thus directed to the works of the Cremonese, and the year 1800 or thereabouts may be put down as the time when the tide of Italian Violins had fairly set in towards France and England. The instruments by the Amati were those chiefly sought after; the amount of attention they commanded at this period was probably about equal to that bestowed upon the works of Stradivari and Guarneri at the present time. Violins of Amati and other makers were, up to this time, obtainable at nominal prices. The number in Italy was far in excess of her requirements, the demand made upon them for choir purposes in former days had ceased, and the number of Violins was thus quite out of proportion to the players. The value of an Amati in England in 1799 and 1804 may be gathered from the following extracts from the day-book of the second William Forster, who was a dealer as well as maker--"20th April, 1799. A Violoncello by Nicholas Amati, with case and bow, 17 pounds 17s. 0d.;" and further on--"5th July, 1804, an Amati Violin 31 pounds 10s. 0d." These prices were probably less than those which William Forster received for many instruments of his own make. It is certain that these low prices did not long continue; the price increased in due proportion to the vanishing properties of the supply. The call for Violins by the Amati was so clamorous as speedily to effect this result; the prices for them were doubled, trebled, and often quadrupled, until they no longer found a home in their native land. The value set on them by the French and English so far exceeded that which the Italians themselves could afford, even though inclined to indulge in such things, that the sellers were as eager to sell as the buyers to buy. During the time of this scramble for instruments of Cremona, the theory of the flat model was fast gaining ground. The circulation of the works of Cremona among the players of France and England led to a comparison of the various forms, and it was found that the elevated model was inferior in every way when tested by the works of the great Italian makers. Hitherto no distinction had been drawn as regards value among the productions of the several members of the Amati family. Andrea had been looked upon as equivalent to Girolamo, Antonio, or Niccolo; but attention now began to be directed towards the works of the brothers, and to those of Niccolo in particular, as the flat model gained in the appreciation of the Fiddling world. Grand Amatis became the coveted Fiddles; they were put up frequently at twice the value of the smaller patterns--a position they still maintain. The taste for the flat form having thus been developed, the works of Antonio Stradivari came to the front, slowly but surely; their beauties now became known outside the circle in which they had hitherto been moving: a circle made up chiefly of royal orchestras (where they were used at wide intervals), convent choirs, and private holders, who possessed them without being in the least aware of their merits. They were now eagerly sought by soloists in all parts of Europe, who spread their fame far and wide. Their exquisite form and finish captivating the _dilettanti_, the demand increased to an extent far beyond that commanded by the works of the Amati at the height of their popularity. There were a few Stradivari instruments in England when Amati was the favourite maker, and their value at that period may be estimated, if it be true that Cervetto, the father of the famous Violoncellist, was unable to dispose of a Stradivari Violoncello for five pounds--a circumstance which shows how blind our forefathers were to the merits of the greatest maker the world has had. Among the artists of the early part of the present century who used the instruments of Stradivari were Boccherini, Viotti, Rode, Kreutzer, Habeneck, Mazas, Lafont, and Baillot. About the year 1820 the fame of Giuseppe Guarneri as a great maker was published beyond Italy, chiefly through the instrumentality of Paganini. That wonderful player came to possess a splendid specimen of Guarneri del Gesu, dated 1743, now sleeping in the Museum at Genoa, which Paganini used in his tour through France and England. He became the owner of this world-famed Violin in the following curious manner. A French merchant (M. Livron) lent him the instrument to play upon at a concert at Leghorn. When the concert had concluded, Paganini brought it back to its owner, when M. Livron exclaimed, "Never will I profane strings which your fingers have touched; that instrument is yours." A more fitting present or higher compliment could not have been offered. The names of Amati and Stradivari became familiar to the musical world gradually, but Guarneri, in the hands of a Paganini, came forth at a bound. This illustrious Violin was often credited with the charm which belonged to the performer; the magical effects and sublime strains that he drew forth from it must, it was thought, rest in the Violin. Every would-be Violinist, whose means permitted him to indulge in the luxury, endeavoured to secure an instrument by the great Guarneri. The demand thus raised brought forth those gems of the Violin-maker's art, now in the possession of wealthy amateurs and a few professors. When the various works of the gifted Guarneri were brought to light, much surprise was felt that such treasures should have been known to such a handful of obscure players, chiefly in the churches of Italy. The Violin used by Paganini belongs to the last period of the great maker, and consequently, is one of those bold and massive instruments of his grandest conception, but lacks the beautiful finish of the middle period. The connoisseurs of those days had associated Giuseppe Guarneri with Violins of the type of Paganini's only; their surprise was great when it was discovered that there were three distinct styles in the works of Guarneri, one evidencing an artistic grandeur, together with a high finish, but little inferior to those of Antonio Stradivari. The marked difference between these epochs of Guarneri's manufacture has led to a great amount of misconception. Fifty years since, the world possessed little information on the subject, and the connoisseur of those times could not believe it possible that these varied styles emanated from one mind. The opportunities given to the connoisseur of later days of comparing the various instruments of the several epochs of Guarneri have set at rest all doubts concerning them. They no longer require dates or labels; they are as easily distinguished and classed as the works of Amati or Stradivari. Attention was claimed for the works of Maggini by the charming Belgian Violinist, Charles de Beriot, who, early admiring the large proportions and powerful tone of Maggini's instruments, decided to use one for public playing. That an artist so refined as De Beriot, and one who attached so much importance to that sympathy between the Violin and player which should make it the vehicle for presenting its master's inward feelings, should have selected a Violin of large size, and adapted for giving forth a great volume of tone, was a matter of surprise to a great many of his contemporaries. Those who judged only from his school of playing anticipated that he would have selected Amati as embodying the qualities he so passionately admired. It is certain, however, that he succeeded in bringing the penetrating power of his Maggini thoroughly under his control. In the instruments of Maggini, De Beriot doubtless recognised the presence of vast power, together with no inconsiderable amount of purity of tone, and to bring forth these qualities to the best advantage was with him a labour of love. The popularity of Maggini's Violins rapidly raised their value. Instruments that, before De Beriot made them widely known, might have been purchased for ten pounds, realised one hundred. The Violin known as "De Beriot's Maggini" remained in his possession till within a short time of his death, when it was disposed of to his friend and patron, the Prince de Chimay, it is said, for the enormous sum of six hundred pounds--a price far in excess of the average value of Maggini's instruments. In this instance, the association of De Beriot with the instrument is sufficient, perhaps, to account for the rare price set upon it. We now reach the time when Carlo Bergonzi began to be regarded as a maker of the first class. As a Cremonese maker, he was one of the latest to receive the attention to which his exceptional merits fairly entitled him. To English connoisseurs belongs the credit of appreciating this great maker. The recognised merits of the makers already named naturally caused a demand for Italian instruments generally. If the masters could not be had, the pupils must be found; hence a whole host of Italian makers, quite unknown in England fifty years since, became familiar to the connoisseur. The works of Guadagnini, Gagliano, Grancino, Santo Serafino, Montagnana, and others whose names it is unnecessary to give, passed from Italy into France and England, until the various schools of Italian Violin manufacture were completely exhausted. When we look back, it is surprising that so much has been achieved in such a brief space of time. The knowledge of Italian works in 1800 was of the slenderest kind, both in France and England; in less than three-quarters of a century those countries contrived to possess themselves of the finest specimens of Cremonese instruments, together with those of other Italian schools. We here have an example of the energy and skill that is brought to bear upon particular branches of industry when once a demand sets in. Men of enterprise rise with it unnoticed, and lead the way to the desired end. In the case of Italian Violins it was Luigi Tarisio who acted as pioneer--a being of singular habits, whose position in the history of the Violin, considered as a curiosity, is an important one. This remarkable man was born of humble parents, wholly unconnected with the musical art. In due time he chose the trade of a carpenter, which vocation he followed with assiduity, if not with love. He amused himself during his leisure hours in acquiring a knowledge of playing on the Violin--an accomplishment that was destined to exercise an influence on his future life, far greater than was ever contemplated by the young carpenter. That his playing was not of a high order may be readily imagined: it was confined chiefly to dance-music, with which he amused his friends, Fiddling to their dancing. His first Violin was a very common instrument, but it served to engender within him that which afterwards became the ruling passion of his life. His study of this little instrument was the seed from which grew his vast knowledge of Italian works. So much was his attention absorbed by the form of the instrument that any skill in playing upon it became quite a secondary consideration. He endeavoured to see all the Violins within his reach, and to observe their several points of difference. The passion for old Violins, thus awakened, caused him to relinquish his former employment entirely, and to devote the whole of his attention to the art which he so loved. He soon became aware of the growing demand for Italian works, and felt that, possessed with a varied and proficient knowledge of the different styles of workmanship belonging to the Italian schools of Violin-making, he could turn his present acquirements to a profitable as well as pleasurable use. He resolved to journey in search of hidden Cremonas. His means were, indeed, very limited. His stock-in-trade consisted only of a few old Violins of no particular value. With these he commenced his labours, journeying in the garb of a pedlar, on foot, through Italian cities and villages, and often playing his Violin in order to procure the bare means of existence. Upon entering a village he endeavoured to ingratiate himself with the villagers, and thus obtain information of the whereabouts of any inhabitants who were possessed of any member of the Fiddle family, his object being to examine and secure, if possible, such instruments as were possessed of any merit. It can readily be conceived that at the commencement of the present century, numbers of valuable Cremonese and other instruments were in the hands of very humble people. Luigi Tarisio knew that such must be the case, and made the most of his good fortune in being the first connoisseur to visit them. His usual method of trading was to exchange with the simple-minded villagers, giving them a Violin in perfect playing order for their shabby old instrument that lacked all the accessories. It was indeed the case of Aladdin's Lamp, and as potent were these Fiddles as the wonderful lamp or ring itself. In the possession of Luigi Tarisio they drew forth from the purses of the wealthy gold that would have enabled the humble villagers to have ceased labour. It is an axiom, however, that everything on this earth is only of value providing it is in its proper place, and these rare old instruments, in the keeping of the poor peasants, could scarcely be considered to be in their proper element; their ignorant possessors were alike unable to appreciate their sterling worth, as works of art, or their powers of sound. Luigi Tarisio, after gathering together a number of old rarities, made for his home, and busied himself in examining the qualities of his stock, selecting the best works, which he laid aside. With the residuum of those instruments he would again set out, using them as his capital wherewith to form the basis of future transactions among the peasantry and others. He visited the numerous monasteries throughout Italy that he might see the valuable specimens belonging to the chapel orchestras. He found them often in a condition ill becoming their value, and tendered his services to regulate and put them into decent order--services gladly accepted and faithfully performed by the ardent connoisseur. By the handling of these buried treasures, his knowledge and experience were greatly extended. Makers hitherto unknown to him became familiar. When he met with instruments apparently beyond the repairer's skill, he would make tempting offers of purchase, which were often accepted. Having accumulated many instruments of a high order during these journeys, he began to consider the best means of disposing of them. He decided upon visiting Paris. He took with him the Violins he valued least, resolving to make himself acquainted with the Parisian Fiddle market before bringing forth his treasures. It is said that he undertook his journey on foot, depriving himself often of the common necessaries of life, that he might have more money to buy up his country's Fiddles. His first visit to Paris was in 1827, an eventful year in the history of Italian Violins, as far as relates to Paris. Upon arriving in the French capital, he directed his steps to the nearest luthier, one Aldric, to whom he had been recommended as a purchaser of old instruments of high value. Upon arriving at the shop of M. Aldric, Tarisio hesitated before entering, feeling suddenly that his appearance was scarcely in keeping with his wares, his clothes being of the shabbiest description, his boots nearly soleless, and his complexion, naturally inclined to blackness, further darkened by the need of ordinary ablutions. However, he set aside these thoughts, and introduced himself to the luthier as having some Cremona Violins for sale. Aldric regarded him half-contemptuously, and with a silent intent to convey to Tarisio that he heard what he said, but did not believe it. The Italian, to the astonishment of the luthier, was not long in verifying his statement; he opened his bag and brought forth a beautiful Niccolo Amati, of the small pattern, in fine preservation, but having neither finger-board, strings, nor fittings of any kind. The countenance of the luthier brightened when he beheld this unexpected specimen of the Italian's wares. He carefully examined it, and did his best to disguise the pleasurable feelings he experienced. He demanded the price. The value set on it was far in excess of that he had anticipated; he erroneously arrived at the probable cost from an estimate of the shabby appearance of the man. He had been comforting himself that the Italian was unaware of the value put upon such instruments. He decided to see further the contents of the bag before expressing an opinion as to the price demanded for the Amati. Violins by Maggini, Ruggeri, and others, were produced--six in number. Tarisio was asked to name his price for the six. After much giving and taking they became the property of the luthier. This business was not regarded as satisfactory by Tarisio; he had overestimated the value of his goods in the Paris market; he had not learned that it was he himself who was to create the demand for high-class Italian instruments by spreading them far and wide, so that their incomparable qualities might be observed. He returned to Italy with his ardour somewhat cooled; the ready sale at the prices he had put upon his stock was not likely to be realised, he began to think. However, with the proceeds of his Paris transaction he again started in search of more Cremonas, with about the same satisfactory results. He resolved to visit Paris again, taking with him some of his choicest specimens. He reached the French capital with a splendid collection--one that in these days would create a complete _furore_ throughout the world of Fiddles. He extended his acquaintance with the Parisian luthiers, among whom were MM. Vuillaume, Thibout, and Chanot senior. They were all delighted with the gems that Tarisio had brought, and encouraged him to bring to France as many more as he could procure, and at regular intervals. He did so, and obtained at each visit better prices. [Illustration: _Plate XX_. GASPARO DA SALO. (LATE LORD AMHERST OF HACKNEY.) GIUSEPPE GUARNERI DEL GESU. 1735. (PRINCE FREDERICK WILLIAM OF PRUSSIA.)] This remarkable man may be said to have lived for nought else but his Fiddles. Mr. Charles Reade, who knew him well, says:[1] "The man's whole soul was in Fiddles. He was a great dealer, but a greater amateur; he had gems by him no money would buy from him." It is related of him that he was in Paris upon one occasion, walking along the Boulevards with a friend, when a handsome equipage belonging to a French magnate passed, the beauty of which was the talk of the city. Tarisio's attention being directed to it by his friend, he calmly answered him that "_he would sooner possess one 'Stradivari' than twenty such equipages_." There is a very characteristic anecdote of Tarisio, which is also related by Mr. Reade in his article on Cremona Violins, entitled the "Romance of Fiddle-dealing": "Well, one day Georges Chanot, senior, made an excursion to Spain, to see if he could find anything there. He found mighty little, but coming to the shop of a Fiddle-maker, one Ortega, he saw the belly of an old Bass hung up with other things. Chanot rubbed his eyes, and asked himself was he dreaming? the belly of a Stradivari Bass roasting in a shop window! He went in, and very soon bought it for about forty francs. He then ascertained that the Bass belonged to a lady of rank. The belly was full of cracks; so, not to make two bites of a cherry, Ortega had made a nice new one. Chanot carried this precious fragment home and hung it up in his shop, but not in the window, for he was too good a judge not to know that the sun will take all the colour out of that maker's varnish. Tarisio came in from Italy, and his eye lighted instantly on the Stradivari belly. He pestered Chanot till the latter sold it him for a thousand francs, and told him where the rest was. Tarisio no sooner knew this than he flew to Madrid. He learned from Ortega where the lady lived, and called on her to see it. 'Sir,' says the lady, 'it is at your disposition.' That does not mean much in Spain. When he offered to buy it, she coquetted with him, said it had been long in her family; money could not replace a thing of that kind, and, in short, she put on the screw, _as she thought_, and sold it him for about four thousand francs. What he did with the Ortega belly is not known; perhaps sold it to some person in the toothpick trade. He sailed exultant for Paris with the Spanish Bass in a case. He never let it go out of his sight. The pair were caught by a storm in the Bay of Biscay; the ship rolled; Tarisio clasped his Bass tightly and trembled. It was a terrible gale, and for one whole day they were in real danger. Tarisio spoke of it to me with a shudder. I will give you his real words, for they struck me at the time, and I have often thought of them since. '_Ah, my poor Mr. Reade, the Bass of Spain was all but lost!_' "Was not this a true connoisseur--a genuine enthusiast? Observe, there was also an ephemeral insect called Luigi Tarisio, who would have gone down with the Bass; but that made no impression on his mind. _De minimis non curat Ludovicus!_ "He got it safe to Paris. A certain high-priest in these mysteries, called Vuillaume, with the help of a sacred vessel, called the glue-pot, soon re-wedded the back and sides to the belly, and the Bass now is just what it was when the ruffian Ortega put his finger in the pie. It was sold for 20,000 fr. (800 pounds). I saw the Spanish Bass in Paris twenty-five years ago, and you can see it any day this month you like, for it is the identical Violoncello now on show at Kensington numbered 188. Who would divine its separate adventures, to see it all reposing so calm and uniform in that case?--_Post tot naufragia tutus_." [Footnote 1: "Cremona Violins," _Pall Mall Gazette_, August, 1872.] The love of Tarisio for the masterpieces of the great makers was so intense, that often when he had parted with the works he so admired, he never lost sight of them, and waited a favourable opportunity for again making himself their owner. It is related of him that upon one occasion he disposed of a beautiful Stradivari, in perfect preservation, to a Paris dealer. After having done so he hungered for it again. For years he never visited Paris without inquiring after his old favourite, and the possibility of its again being offered for sale, that he might regain possession of it. At last his perseverance was rewarded, inasmuch as he heard that it was to be bought. He instructed his informant to obtain for him a sight of it. The instrument was fetched, and Tarisio had scarcely patience enough to wait the opening of the case, so anxious was he to see his old companion. He eagerly took up the Violin, and turned it over and over, apparently lost to all about him, when suddenly his keen eye rested upon a damage it had received, which was hidden by new varnish. His heart sank within him; he was overcome by this piece of vandalism. In mingled words of passion and remorse he gave vent to his feelings. He placed it in its case, remarking sadly that it had no longer any charm for him. In the year 1851 Tarisio visited England, when Mr. John Hart, being anxious that he should see the chief collections of Cremonese instruments in this country, accompanied him to the collection, amongst others, of the late Mr. James Goding, which was then the finest in Europe. The instruments were arranged on shelves at the end of a long room, and far removed from them sat the genuine enthusiast, patiently awaiting the promised exhibition. Upon Mr. Goding taking out his treasures he was inexpressibly astonished to hear his visitor calling out the maker of each instrument before he had had time to advance two paces towards him, at the same time giving his host to understand that he thoroughly knew the instruments, the greater number having been in his possession. Mr. Goding whispered to a friend standing by, "Why, the man must certainly smell them, he has not had time to look." Many instruments in this collection Tarisio seemed never tired of admiring. He took them up again and again, completely lost to all around--in a word, spell-bound. There was the "King" Guarneri--the Guarneri known as Lafont's--the beautiful Bergonzi Violin--the Viola known as Lord Macdonald's--General Kidd's Stradivari Violoncello--the Marquis de la Rosa's Amati--Ole Bull's Guarneri--the Santo Serafino 'Cello--and other remarkable instruments too numerous to mention. Who can say what old associations these Cremona gems brought to his memory? For the moment, these Fiddles resolved themselves into a diorama, in which he saw the chief events of his life played over again. With far greater truthfulness than that which his unaided memory could have supplied, each Fiddle had its tale to relate. His thoughts were carried back to the successful energies of his past. Tarisio may be said to have lived the life of a hermit to the time of his death. He had no pleasures apart from his Fiddles; they were his all in this world. Into his lodgings, in the Via Legnano, near the Porta Tenaglia, in Milan, no living being but himself was ever permitted to enter.[2] His nearest neighbours had not the least knowledge of his occupation. He mounted to his attic without exchanging a word with any one, and left it securely fastened to start on his journeys in the same taciturn manner. He was consequently regarded as a mysterious individual, whose doings were unfathomable. The time, however, has arrived when the veil hiding the inner life of this remarkable man should be lifted, and here I am indebted for particulars to Signor Sacchi, of Cremona, who received them from a reliable source. Tarisio had been seen by his ever-watchful neighbours to enter his abode, but none had noticed him quit it for several days. The door was tried and found locked; no answer was returned to the sundry knockings. That Tarisio was there the neighbours were convinced. The facts were at once brought under the notice of the municipal authorities, who gave instructions that an entry should be made by force into the mysterious man's apartment. The scene witnessed was indeed a painful one. On a miserable couch rested the lifeless body of Luigi Tarisio; around, everything was in the utmost disorder. The furniture of the apartment consisted mainly of a chair, table, and the couch upon which lay the corpse. A pile of old Fiddle-boxes here and there, Fiddles hung around the walls, others dangling from the ceiling, Fiddle-backs, Fiddle-heads, and bellies in pigeon-holes; three Double-Basses tied to the wall, covered with sacking. This was the sight that met the gaze of the authorities. Little did they imagine they were surrounded with gems no money would have bought from their late eccentric owner. Here were some half-dozen Stradivari Violins, Tenors, and Violoncellos, the chamber Gasparo da Salo Double-Bass now in the possession of Mr. Bennett, and the Ruggeri now belonging to Mr. J. R. Bridson, besides upwards of one hundred Italian instruments of various makers, and others of different nationalities. All these were passed over by the visitors as so much rubbish in their search for something more marketable. At last they alighted on a packet of valuable securities together with a considerable amount of gold. A seal was placed upon the apartment, pending inquiries as to the whereabouts of the dead man's relatives. In due time, some nephews came forth and laid claim to the goods and chattels of the Italian Fiddle connoisseur. [Footnote 2: The house is now turned, with those adjoining, into a manufactory. When Luigi Tarisio lived there it was a small restaurant, similar to those seen in the side streets of Soho.] Luigi Tarisio died in October, 1854. Three months later, upon the news being communicated to M. Vuillaume, of Paris, he soon set out for Milan, and had the good fortune to secure the whole of the collection, at a price which left him a handsome profit upon the transaction, besides the pleasurable feeling of becoming the possessor of such a varied and remarkable number of instruments. Having given the reader all the information I have been able to collect concerning Tarisio, I will only add that he had advantages over all other connoisseurs, inasmuch as he found the instruments mostly in their primitive condition, and free from any tampering as regards the labels within them. He was thus enabled to learn the characteristics of each without fear of confusion. The days of taking out the labels of unmarketable names and substituting marketable counterfeits had not arrived. The principal buyers of Italian instruments on the Continent, when dealing in this class of property was in its infancy, were Aldric, MM. Chanot senior, Thibout, Gand, Vuillaume of Paris, and Vuillaume of Brussels. In London, among others, were Davis, Betts, Corsby, and John Hart. There is yet another, the omission of whose name would be a blemish in any notice of the Violin and its connoisseurs. I refer to Mr. Charles Reade, the novelist, who in early life took the highest interest in old Italian Violins. We are indebted to him in a great measure for bringing into this country many of the most beautiful specimens we possess. Impressed with the charms of the subject, he visited the Continent for the pleasure it afforded him of bringing together choice specimens, and thus opened up the intercourse between England and the Continent for the interchange of old Violins which continues to this day. It would be difficult to find an instance where the intricacies of the subject were so quickly mastered as in his case. Without assistance, but solely from his own observation, he gained a knowledge which enabled him to place himself beside the Chief Continental connoisseurs, and compete for the ownership of Cremonese masterpieces. These were the men who laid bare the treasures of Cremona's workshops, and spread far and wide love and admiration for the fine old works. Connoisseurship such as theirs is rare. To a keen eye was united intense love of the art, patience, energy, and memory of no ordinary kind, all of them attributes requisite to make a successful judge of Violins. Charles Lamb, on being asked how he distinguished his "ragged veterans" in their tattered and unlettered bindings, answered, "How does a shepherd know his sheep?" It has been observed that, "Touch becomes infinitely more exquisite in men whose employment requires them to examine the polish of bodies than it is in others. In music only the simplest and plainest compositions are relished at first; use and practice extend our pleasure--teach us to relish finer melody, and by degrees enable us to enter into the intricate and compounded pleasure of harmony." Thus it is with connoisseurship in Violins. Custom and observation, springing from a natural disposition, make prominent features and minute points of difference before unseen, resulting in a knowledge of style of which it has been well said "Every man has his own, like his own nose." As an ardent votary of the Violin, regarded from a point of view at once artistic and curious, Count Cozio di Salabue takes precedence of all others. He was born about the time when the art of Italian Violin-making began to show signs of decadence, and having cultivated a taste for Cremonese instruments, he resolved to gratify his passion by bringing together a collection of Violins which should be representative of the work and character of each maker, and serve as models to those seeking to tread the path of the makers who made Cremona eminent as a seat of Violin manufacture. Virtuosity emanating from a spirit of beneficence is somewhat rare. When, however, utility occupies a prominent place in the thoughts of the virtuoso, he becomes a benefactor. The virtuosity of Count Cozio was of this character. His love for Cremonese instruments was neither whimsical nor transient. From the time when he secured the contents of the shop of Stradivari to the end of his life--a period of about fifty years--he appears to have exerted himself to obtain as much information as possible relative to the art, and to collect masterpieces that they might in some measure be the means of recovering a lost art. When in the year 1775 he secured ten instruments out of ninety-one which Stradivari left in his shop at the time of his death, he must surely have considered himself singularly fortunate, and the happiest of collectors.[3] That such good fortune prompted him to make fresh overtures of purchase cannot be wondered at. We learn from the correspondence of Paolo Stradivari that the Count had caused two letters to be sent by the firm of Anselmi di Briata to Paolo inquiring if he was willing to part with the tools and patterns used by his father Antonio, and that Paolo replied on May 4, 1776: "I have already told you that I have no objection to sell all those patterns, measures, and tools which I happen to have in my possession, provided that they do not remain in Cremona, and you will recollect that I have shown you all the tools I have, and also the box containing the patterns.... I place all at your disposal, and as it is simply a friendly matter" (Paolo Stradivari appears to have had large dealings in cloth and other goods with the firm of Anselmi di Briata, of Casale, a small city on the Po), "I will give you everything for twenty-eight giliati."[4] It does not appear that Paolo's correspondents were moved in their answer by any feelings of sentimentality or of friendship: on the contrary, the tone of the letter was clearly commercial, they having made an offer of twenty-three giliati less than demanded. Paolo Stradivari in his reply, dated June 4, 1776, says: "Putting ceremony aside, I write in a mercantile style. I see from your favour of the 13th ultimo (which I only received by the last courier), that you offer me five giliati for all the patterns and moulds which I happen to possess, as well as for those lent to Bergonzi, and also for the tools of the trade of my late father; but this is too little; however, to show you the desire I have to please you, and in order that not a single thing belonging to my father be left in Cremona, I will part with them for six giliati, providing that you pay them at once into the hands of Domenico Dupuy & Sons, silk stocking manufacturers. I will send you the things above-mentioned, conditionally that I keep the five giliati and use the other one to defray expenses for the case, the packing, and the custom-house duty, which will be necessary to send them, and I shall let you have back through Messrs. Dupuy, residing under the Market Arcades in Turin, any balance that should remain, or (if you like) you may pay the said Messrs. Dupuy seven giliati, and I shall then defray all the expenses, and send also the two snake-wood bows which I possess.--(Signed) PAOLO STRADIVARI." [Footnote 3: These instruments and the tools appear to have been in the possession of Paolo from the year 1743, when Francesco died, and Paolo opened the shop in the Piazza S. Domenico as a cloth warehouse. He therefore seems to have only decided to dispose of his father's tools when he was in a feeble state of health, he having died, as already noticed, before the purchase was settled, aged 68.] [Footnote 4: A giliati was a Tuscan gold coin bearing the arms of Florence, the value of which was 9s. 6-1/2d. Its present purchasing power would probably be three times as much, and therefore the sum asked by Paolo Stradivari would be equal to 38 pounds 12s. 10-1/2d.] In reply to this interesting letter, Messrs. Anselmi di Briata appear to have written accepting the terms offered by Paolo Stradivari, and to have explained to him that they had been in treaty with a certain Signor Boroni, relative to the purchase of a Violin, and having come to terms they wished the instrument to be packed with the tools and moulds. Paolo, in acknowledging this communication, June 25, 1776, says: "In reply to your favour of the 10th instant, Signor Boroni will hand me over the Violin upon hearing that the money has been paid to Messrs. Dupuy. I shall then have no objection to place it in the same case together with the patterns and implements left by my father." From this and subsequent correspondence we learn that Messrs. Anselmi di Briata, being wholesale traders, were in a suitable position to act as intermediaries in the purchase of Violins on behalf of Count Cozio. Their business necessitated their visiting Cremona, and thus they appear to have seen the Violin of Signor Boroni, and also another belonging to a monk or friar named Father Ravizza, both of which were subsequently bought, as seen by the following extracts from a letter of Paolo Stradivari:-- "Cremona, July 10, 1776. We learn from Messrs. Dupuy of the receipt of the seven giliati, which you have paid on our account.... As we have already prepared everything, we shall therefore inform Father Ravizza and Signor Boroni; I have, however, to mention that I did not think I possessed so many things as I have found. It being according to what has been promised, it cannot be discussed over again.... It will be a very heavy case, on account of the quantity of patterns and tools, and consequently it will be dangerous to put the Violins in the same package." The writer refers to the two instruments before mentioned: "I fear without care they will let it fall in unloading it, and the Violins will be damaged; I inform you therefore of the fact.... You must let me know how I have to send the case. If by land, through the firm of Tabarini, of Piacenza, or to take the opportunity of sending by the Po." In passing, it may be remarked that the distance between Cremona and Casale by the river Po is about sixty miles. The later correspondence makes known the fact of the precious freight having been consigned to the firm of Anselmi di Briata by way of the Po, and that it was entrusted to the care and charge of a barge-master named Gobbi. It is by no means uncommon to discover the memories of men kept green in our minds from causes strangely curious and unexpected. Many seek to render their names immortal by some act the nature of which would seem to be imperishable, and chiefly fail of their object; whilst others, obscure and unthought of, live on by accident. Imagine the paints and brushes, the pencils and palettes, the easel and the sketches of Raffaele having been given over to a Po barge-master, and that chance had divulged his name. Would he not in these days of microscopic biography have furnished work for the genealogist, and been made the subject of numberless pictures? Hence it is that the admirers of Stradivari cannot fail to remember the name of honest Gobbi, who carried the chest wherein were the tools with which the Raffaele of Violin-making wrought the instruments which have served to render his memory immortal. Soon after the date of Paolo's last letter, he became seriously ill, dying on the 9th of October, 1776. The correspondence was then taken up by his son Antonio. He says in his letter dated November 21, 1776: "I shall send you the case with the patterns and tools of my late grandfather Antonio, which was packed and closed before my father was bedridden. You will find it well-arranged, with mark on it, and with red tape and seal as on the Violins already sent to you." He next refers to other patterns which he found locked up in a chest and which he believes were unknown or forgotten by his father, and offers to dispose of them, with a Viola, and concludes by promising to send the receipts, the copies of which show that the remnants of the tools and patterns were bought for three giliati. It is unnecessary in this place to make further reference to Count Cozio as a collector, the chief information concerning him being spread over the section of Italian makers. The facsimile of one of the Count's letters here given will serve both as an interesting remembrance of him and as evidence of his keen interest in all relating to the art of which he was so distinguished a votary. [Illustration: Letter of Count Cozio.] Probably the earliest collector of Italian Violins in England was William Corbett. He was a member of the King's orchestra, and having obtained permission to go abroad, went to Italy in 1710, and resided at Rome many years, where he is said to have made a rare collection of music and musical instruments. How he managed to gratify his desire in this direction seems not to have been understood by his friends, his means, in their estimation, not being equal to such an expenditure. Hence arose a report that he was employed by the Government to watch the Pretender. Corbett died at an advanced age in 1748, and bequeathed his "Gallery of Cremonys and Stainers" to the authorities of Gresham College, with a view that they should remain for inspection under certain conditions, leaving ten pounds per annum to an attendant to show the instruments. Whether the wishes of the testator were carried out in any way there is no information, but the instruments are said to have been disposed of by auction a short time after his decease. The principal early collectors in this country were the Duke of Hamilton, the Duke of Cambridge, the Earl of Falmouth, the Duke of Marlborough, Lord Macdonald, and a few others. Later, Mr. Andrew Fountaine, of Narford Hall, Norfolk, became the owner of several fine Italian instruments, and made himself better acquainted with the subject, perhaps, than any amateur of his time. Among the Stradivari Violins which Mr. Fountaine possessed was that which he purchased from M. Habeneck, the famous professor at the Paris Conservatoire in the early part of the nineteenth century. Another very fine specimen of the late period, 1734, was also owned by him, a Violin of grand proportions in a high state of preservation, and of the richest varnish. The Guarneri Violins that he possessed were of a very high class. Among these may be mentioned a very small Violin by Giuseppe Guarneri, probably unique, which instrument was exhibited among the Cremonese Violins at the South Kensington Museum in 1872, together with another of the same size by Stradivari, and a third by the brothers Amati. The number of rarities brought together by the late Mr. James Goding was in every respect remarkable. At one period he owned twelve Stradivari Violins, and nearly the same number by Giuseppe Guarneri, all high-class instruments. It would take up too much time and space to name the particular instruments which were comprised in this collection. The remnant of this group of Cremonese Fiddles was dispersed by Messrs. Christie and Manson in 1857. Mr. Plowden's collection was another remarkable one, consisting of eight instruments of the highest class. The late Joseph Gillott was a collector, who, in point of number, exceeded all others. He did not confine himself solely to the works of the greatest makers, but added specimens of every age and clime; and at one time he must have had upwards of 500 instruments, the chief part of which belonged to the Italian School. When it is remembered that the vast multitude of stringed instruments disposed of by Messrs. Christie and Manson in 1872 did not amount to one-half the number originally owned by Mr. Gillott, some idea of the extent of his collection may be gained. Among the many curious instances of the love of collecting Violins, which sometimes possesses those unable to use them, perhaps that of Mr. Gillott is the most singular. Notable collections, be they of Fiddles, medals, pottery, or pictures, have sometimes had their rise in accidents of a curious kind. Lord Northwick dated his passion for coins to a bag of brass ones, which he purchased in sport for eight pounds. His lordship ended by purchasing, in conjunction with Payne Knight, the collection of Sir Robert Ainslie, for eight thousand pounds, besides sharing with the same collector the famous Sicilian coins belonging to the Prince Torremuzza. The Gillott collection of Fiddles had its origin in a picture deal. Mr. Gillott happened to be making terms in his gallery at Edgbaston relative to an exchange of pictures with Edwin Atherstone,[5] poet and novelist, who collected both Violins and pictures. A difficulty arose in adjusting the balance, when Mr. Atherstone suggested throwing a Fiddle in as a counterpoise. "That would be to no purpose," remarked Mr. Gillott, "for I have neither knowledge of music nor of the Fiddle." "I am aware of that," rejoined his friend; "but Violins are often of extraordinary value as works of art." Mr. Gillott, becoming interested in the subject, agreed to accept the Fiddle as a make-weight, and the business was settled. A few months later the floor of his picture gallery on all sides was lined with cases, single and double, containing Violins in seemingly endless profusion. It was about the year 1848 he conceived the notion of bringing together this mammoth collection; and in about four years he had made himself master of the largest number of Italian instruments ever owned by a single individual. He suddenly relinquished the pursuit he had followed with such persistency; he disposed of a great number, and laid the remainder aside in his steel-pen works at Birmingham, where they slumbered for upwards of twenty years. The time at last arrived when this pile of Fiddles was to be dispersed. It fell to my lot to classify them, and never shall I forget the scene I witnessed. Here, amid the din of countless machines busy shaping magnum-bonums, swan-bills, and divers other writing implements, I was about to feast my eyes on some of the choicest works of the old Italian Fiddle-makers. Passing through offices, warehouses, and workshops, I found myself at a door which my conductor set himself to unlock--an act not often performed, I felt assured, from the sound which accompanied his deed. To adequately describe what met my eyes when the door swung back on its hinges, is beyond my powers of description. Fiddles here!--Fiddles there!--Fiddles everywhere, in wild disorder! I interrogated my friend as to the cause of their being in such an unseemly condition, and received answer that he had instructions to remove most of the instruments from their cases and arrange them, that I might better judge of their merits. I was at a loss to understand what he meant by arranging, for a more complete disarrangement could not have been effected. Not wishing to appear unmindful of the kindly intentions of my would-be assistant, I thanked him, inwardly wishing that this disentombment had been left entirely to me. The scene was altogether so peculiar and unexpected as to be quite bewildering. In the centre of the room was a large warehouse table, upon which were placed in pyramids upwards of seventy Violins and Tenors, stringless, bridgeless, unglued, and enveloped in the fine dust which had crept through the crevices of the cardboard sarcophagi in which they had rested for the previous quarter of a century. On the floor lay the bows. The scene might not inappropriately be compared to a post-mortem examination on an extended scale. When left alone I began to collect my thoughts as to the best mode of conducting my inquiry. After due consideration I attacked pyramid No. 1, from which I saw a head protruding which augured well for the body, and led me to think it belonged to the higher walks of Fiddle-life. With considerate care I withdrew it from the heap, and gently rubbed the dust off here and there, that I might judge of its breeding. It needed but little rubbing to make known its character; it was a Viola by Giuseppe Guarneri, filius Andreae, a charming specimen (now in the ownership of the Earl of Harrington). Laying it aside, I pulled out from the pile several others belonging to the same class. Being too eager to learn of what the real merits of this huge pile of Fiddles consisted, I rapidly passed from one to the other without close scrutiny, leaving that for an after pleasure. So entirely fresh were these instruments to me, that the delight I experienced in thus digging them out may well be understood by the connoisseur. After thus wading through those resting on the table, I discovered some shelves, upon which were a number of cases, which I opened. Here were fine Cremonese instruments in company with raw copies--as curious a mixture of good and indifferent as could be well conceived. Not observing any Violoncellos, when my attendant presented himself I inquired if there were not some in the collection. I was unable to make him understand to what I referred for some little time, but when I called them big Fiddles, he readily understood. He had some faint idea of having seen something of the kind on the premises, and started off to make inquiry. Upon his return, I was conducted to an under warehouse, the contents of which were of a varied character. Here were stored unused lathes, statuary, antique pianos, parts of machinery, pictures, and picture-frames. At the end of this long room stood, in stately form, the "big Fiddles," about fifty in number--five rows, consequently ten deep. They looked in their cases like a detachment of infantry awaiting the word of command. Years had passed by since they had been called upon to take active service of a pacific and humanising nature in the ranks of the orchestra. Had they the power of speech, what tales of heroism might they have furnished of the part they played at the "Fall of Babylon" and the "Siege of Corinth," aye! and "Wellington's Victory" (Beethoven, Op. 91). A more curious mixture of art and mechanism could not easily be found than that which the contents of this room exhibited. With what delight did I proceed to open these long-closed cases! The character of the Violins naturally led me to anticipate much artistic worth in the Violoncellos, and I had not judged erroneously. Bergonzi, Amati, Andrea Guarneri, Cappa, Grancino, Testore, Landolfi, and men of less note, were all well represented in this army of big Fiddles. Having glanced at the merits and demerits of these instruments, I observed to my conductor that I imagined I had seen all. "No," he answered; "I was about to mention that there are a few Violins at Mr. Gillott's residence, and perhaps we had better go there at once." I readily assented, and in due time reached Edgbaston. There seemed no doubt as to the whereabouts of these instruments, and I was at once ushered into the late Mr. Gillott's _bedroom_. Pointing to a long mahogany glazed case occupying one side of the chamber, the attendant gave me to understand I should there find the Violins. At once I commenced operations. Pushing aside the first sliding door, I saw a row of those cardboard cases made to hold the Violin only, which many of my readers will doubtless remember seeing at the time of the sale at Messrs. Christie's. By this time it may readily be imagined that an idea had taken possession of my mind, that I had not, after all, seen the best portion of the collection. The circumstance of Violins being deposited in the sleeping apartment of their owner was sufficient to give birth to this conjecture. Upon removing the lid of the first cardboard case, my eyes rested on a charming Stradivari of the Amati period, a gem of its kind. Gently laying it on the table, that I might examine it later, I opened the next case. Here rested a magnificent Giuseppe Guarneri, the instrument afterwards bought by Lord Dunmore, date 1732. Pursuing my delightful occupation, I opened another case, the contents of which put the rest completely in the shade--here rested the Stradivari, date 1715, the gem of the collection. Unable to restrain my curiosity, I rapidly opened sixteen cases in all, from which I took out six Stradivari, two Guarneri, one Bergonzi, two Amati, and five other Violins of a high class. [Footnote 5: Edwin Atherstone, born 1788, died 1872; was the author of "The Fall of Nineveh" and "The Last Days of Herculaneum," two poems in blank verse, and of a novel, "The Sea Kings of England," of which Sir Walter Scott wrote approvingly.] It was observed at the time of the sale of this remarkable collection, which took place shortly after the dispersion of Mr. Gillott's gallery of pictures, that "Every well-ordered display of fireworks should have its climax of luminous and detonating splendour, throwing into shade all the preliminary squibs, crackers, and rockets, the Catherine wheels, the Roman candles, and the golden rain. The French, with modest propriety, term this consummation a _bouquet_." I cannot find anything more applicable than this word to the scene I have attempted to describe. It only remains for me to say, in reference to this array of Fiddles, that I passed a week in their company, and a more enjoyable one I have never had during my professional career. Dr. Johnson, who understood neither Fiddling nor painting, who collected neither coins nor cockle-shells, maggots nor butterflies, was clearly of the same opinion as the author of "Tristram Shandy," that there is no disputing against hobby-horses. He says: "The pride or the pleasure of making collections, if it be restrained by prudence and morality, produces a pleasing remission after more laborious studies; furnishes an amusement, not wholly unprofitable, for that part of life, the greater part of many lives, which would otherwise be lost in idleness or vice; it produces a useful traffic between the industry of indigence and the curiosity of wealth, and brings many things to notice that would be neglected." SECTION XIV Sketch of the Progress of the Violin It may be said that the Violin made its appearance about the middle of the sixteenth century. There are instances where reference is made to Violins and Violin-playing in connection with times prior to that above-named, but no reliance can be placed on the statements. Leonardo da Vinci, who died in 1523, is spoken of as having been a celebrated performer on the Violin. The instrument he used is described as having had a neck of silver, with the singular addition of a carved horse's head.[1] This description, however, is sufficiently anomalous to make one rather sceptical, as to whether the instrument denoted possessed any particular affinity to the present Violin. Reference is made to the picture of the "Marriage at Cana," by Paolo Veronese, as furnishing evidence of the form of instruments used in Italy in the 16th century, and a description is given of the musical part of the subject as follows: "In the foreground, in the vacant space of the semicircle formed by the table, at which the guests of the marriage at Cana are seated, Titian is playing on the Double-Bass, Paolo Veronese and Tintoretto on the Violoncello; a man with a cross on his breast is playing on the Violin, Bassano is blowing the Flute, and a Turkish slave the Sackbut." [Footnote 1: "Lives of Haydn and Mozart," translated from the French by L. A. C. Bombet. 1818.] [Illustration: "The Marriage at Cana."] The naming of the performers is presumably correct, and greatly heightens our interest in the group musically. It is clear, however, that the nomenclature of the instruments is erroneous. In the engraved section of the famous picture here given, Paolo Veronese is represented taking part in the performance of a Madrigal, wearing an expression of countenance indicative of rapt pleasure, engendered by the mingling of the tones of his Tenor Viol in the harmonies. Behind Paolo Veronese is seated Tintoretto, playing an instrument identical with that in the hands of the painter of the picture. On the opposite side of the table is Titian, with the point of his bow almost touching the dog, playing the fundamental tones on the Violono. He apparently displays an amount of real relish for his task, which bespeaks a knowledge of the responsibility belonging to the post of Basso. The ecclesiastic seated next to Titian, wearing the chain with crucifix, is performing on a Soprano Viol. The instruments, in short, are Italian Viols, the Tenors of which were strung with six strings, and the Violono, or Bass, with six or seven. It is this order of Viols to which reference is made in the work of Ganassi del Fontego, and they are, therefore, distinct from the four-stringed Viols made at Brescia and Mantua. The earliest player on the Violin of whom we have any account worthy of attention was Baltazarini, a native of Piedmont. He removed to France in the year 1577, whither he was sent by Marshal de Brissac to superintend the music of Catherine de Medici. He was probably the introducer of Italian dances into Paris, and he delighted the Court as much by his skill on the Violin as by his writing of ballet music. During the last half of the sixteenth century a new species of music made way in Italy which exercised a marked effect on the progress of the Violin, namely, that of the concert orchestra. It was chiefly cultivated at Venice and Ferrara. At the latter place the Duke of Ferrara maintained a great number of musicians in his service. At this period there were no concerts of a public character; they were given in the palaces of the wealthy, and the performers were chiefly those belonging to their private bands. The opera, in which instruments were used to accompany the voice, began to be put upon the stage of the public theatres in Italy about the year 1600. The opera "Orfeo," by Claudio Monteverde, a Cremonese, famous both as a composer and Violist, was represented in 1608. The opera in those times differed essentially from that of modern days. Particular instruments were selected to accompany each character; for instance, ten Treble Viols to accompany Eurydice, two Bass Viols to Orpheus, and so on. No mention is made of Violins further than that two small Violins (duoi Violini piccoli alla Francese) are to accompany the character of Hope, from which it is inferred that a band of Violins was in use not much later. It is to the introduction of the Sonata that the rapid progress in the cultivation of Violin-playing is due. Dr. Burney tells us the earliest Sonatas or Trios for two Violins and a Bass he discovered were published by Francesco Turini, organist of the Duomo, at Brescia, under the following title: "Madrigali a una, due, e tre voci, con alcune Sonate a due e a tre, Venezia, 1624." He says: "I was instigated by this early date to score one of these Sonatas, which consisted of only a single movement in figure and imitation throughout, in which so little use was made of the power of the bow in varying the expression of the same notes, that each part might have been as well played on one instrument as another." In this branch of composition Corelli shone forth with considerable lustre, and gave great impetus to the culture of the Violin. It was at Rome that his first twelve Sonatas were published, in 1683. In 1685 the second set appeared, entitled "Balletti da Camera"; four years later the third set was published. The genius of Corelli may be said to have revolutionised Violin-playing. He had followers in the chief cities of Italy. There was Vitali at Modena, Visconti at Cremona (who, it is said, tendered his advice to Stradivari upon the construction of his instruments--advice, I think, little needed); Veracini at Bologna, and a host of others. Dibdin, the Tyrtaeus of the British navy, said: "I had always delighted in Corelli, whose harmonies are an assemblage of melodies. I, therefore, got his Concertos in single parts, and put them into score, by which means I saw all the workings of his mind at the time he composed them; I so managed that I not only comprehended in what manner the parts had been worked, but how, in every way, they might have been worked. From this severe but profitable exercise, I drew all the best properties of harmony, and among the rest I learnt the valuable secret, that men of strong minds may violate to advantage many of those rules of composition which are dogmatically imposed." [Illustration: _Plate XXI_. ANTONIO STRADIVARI. 1690. (Made for Cosimo III. de Medici, Grand Duke of Florence.)] We must now retrace our steps somewhat, in order to allude to another Violinist, who influenced the progress of the leading instrument out of Italy, viz., Jean Baptiste Lulli. The son of a Tuscan peasant, born in the year 1633, Lulli's name is so much associated with the romantic in the history of Violin-playing that he has been deprived in a great measure of the merits justly his due for the part he took in the advancement of the instrument. The story of Lulli and the stew-pans[2] bristles with interest for juvenile musicians, but the hero is often overlooked by graver people, on account of his culinary associations. When Lulli was admitted to the Violin band of Louis XIV., he found the members very incompetent; they could not play at sight, and their style was of the worst description. The king derived much pleasure from listening to Lulli's music, and established a new band on purpose for the composer, namely, "Les petits Violons," to distinguish it from the band of twenty-four. He composed much music for the Court ballets in which the king danced. [Footnote 2: Lulli having shown a disposition for music, received some instructions on the rudiments of the art from a priest. The Chevalier de Guise, when on his travels in Italy, had been requested by Mademoiselle de Montpensier, niece of Louis XIV., to procure for her an Italian boy as page, and happening to see Lulli in Florence, he chose him for that purpose, on account of his wit and vivacity, and his skill in playing on the guitar. The lady, however, not liking his appearance, sent him into her kitchen, where he was made an under scullion, and amused himself by arranging the stew-pans in tones and semitones, upon which he would play various airs, to the utter dismay of the cook.] Lulli contributed greatly to the improvement of French music. He wrote several operas, and many compositions for the Church, all of which served to raise the standard of musical taste in France. To him also belongs the credit of having founded the French national opera. We will now endeavour to trace the progress of the Violin in England. It is gratifying to learn that, even in the primitive age of Violin-playing, we were not without our national composers for the instrument. Dr. Benjamin Rogers wrote airs in four parts for Violins so early as 1653 (the year Corelli was born). John Jenkins wrote twelve sonatas for two Violins and a Bass, printed in London in 1660, which were the first sonatas written by an Englishman. About this date Charles II. established his band of twenty-four Violins. During his residence on the Continent he had frequent opportunities of hearing the leading instrument, and seems to have been so much impressed with its beauties that he set up for himself a similar band to that belonging to the French Court. The leader was Thomas Baltzar, who was regarded as the best player of his time. Anthony Wood met Baltzar at Oxford, and says he "saw him run up his fingers to the end of the finger-board of the Violin, and run them back insensibly, and all in alacrity and in very good time, which he nor any one in England saw the like before." Wood tells us that Baltzar "was buried in the cloister belonging to St. Peter's Church in Westminster." The emoluments attached to the Royal band, according to Samuel Pepys, appear to have been somewhat irregular. In the Diary, December 19, 1666, we read: "Talked of the King's family with Mr. Kingston, the organist. He says many of the musique are ready to starve, they being five years behindhand for their wages; nay, Evens, the famous man upon the Harp, having not his equal in the world, did the other day die for mere want, and was fain to be buried at the alms of the parish, and carried to his grave in the dark at night without one linke, but that Mr. Kingston met it by chance, and did give 12d. to buy two or three links." The state of the Merry Monarch's exchequer in 1662, according to an extract from the Emoluments of the Audit Office, seems to have been singularly prosperous. An order runs as follows: "These are to require you to pay, or cause to be paid, to John Bannister, one of His Majesty's musicians in ordinary, the sum of forty pounds for two Cremona Violins, by him bought and delivered for His Majesty's service, as may appear by the bill annexed; and also ten pounds for strings for two years ending 24th June, 1662." The King's band was led in 1663 by the above-named John Bannister, who was an excellent Violinist. His name is associated with the earliest concerts in England, namely, those held at "four of the clock in the afternoon" at the George Tavern, in Whitefriars. Roger North informs us the shopkeepers and others went to sing and "enjoy ale and tobacco," and the charge was one shilling and "call for what you please." In the year 1683, Henry Purcell, organist of the Chapel Royal, published twelve sonatas for two Violins and a Bass. These famous instrumental compositions were written, the author tells us, in "just imitation of the most famed Italian masters, principally to bring the seriousness and gravity of that sort of musick into vogue." Purcell, in conformity with an age of dedications, thus addressed the Merry Monarch:-- "May it please your Majesty, I had not assum'd the confidence of laying ye following compositions at your sacred feet, but that, as they are the immediate results of your Majestie's Royal favour and benignity to me (which have made me what I am), so I am constrained to hope I may presume amongst others of your Majestie's over-obliged and altogether undeserving subjects that your Majesty will, with your accustomed clemency, vouchsafe to pardon the best endeavours of your Majestie's "Most humble and obedient subject and servant, "H. PURCELL." Charles II. is said to have understood his notes, and to sing in (in the words of one who had sung with him) a plump bass, but that he only looked upon music as an incentive to mirth, not caring for any that he could not "stamp the time to." The endeavour of his accomplished and gifted young organist to lead the King and his people to admire what he terms "the seriousness and gravity" of Italian music, and "to loathe the levity and balladry of our neighbours," was indeed worthy of England's greatest musician. In the year 1678, Thomas Britton, known as the "musical small-coal man," gave concerts in this country, and a long series it was, extending over a period of forty-six years. The shape the movement took was that of a musical club, which was maintained at Britton's expense. The concert-room of Tom Britton was over his coal-shop in Aylesbury Street, leading from Clerkenwell Green to St. John Street. From the year 1678 to the time of his death, in 1714, the concerts of Britton were attended by persons of all ranks. "Tho' mean thy rank, yet in thy humble cell, Did gentle peace and arts unpurchased dwell. Well pleased, Apollo thither led his train, And Music warbled in her sweetest strain. Cyllenius too, so fables tell, and Jove Came willing guests to poor Philemon's grove. Let useless pomp behold, and blush to find So low a station, such a liberal mind."[3] [Footnote 3: These verses were written by Mr. John Hughes, who was a frequent performer on the Violin at Britton's concerts. (Hawkins.)] Thus the first germ of the great musical societies gave a marked impulse to the culture of stringed music in England. Attention was turned to the subject; its humanising effects were recognised, and parties met in several places for the practice of chamber music. Our progress in Violin-playing at this date was clearly satisfactory. We had a Violinist named John Henry Eccles, belonging to a clever family of musicians. He became a member of the band of Louis XIV., and was regarded as an excellent player and musician. He published in Paris some solos for the Violin in 1720. His brother Thomas was also a good Violinist. Fortune, however, did not smile upon him. He is described as being one of those itinerant musicians--perhaps the last of them--who in winter evenings went to taverns, and for a slender subsistence bore the insults of those disinclined to listen to their performance. This order of itinerant musicians may be described as having descended from the Fiddling minstrels, whom the wealthy in earlier times often retained in their houses, giving them coats and badges bearing the family arms. These musicians, in place of amusing the nobility, ultimately attended wakes and fairs. They were sometimes retained at the large inns, where the guest while eating, an old English writer says, was "offered music, which he may freely take or refuse, and if he be solitary the musicians will give him the good day, with music in the morning." In Puritan times this class of musician was thought to have so much increased as to need a special act for their suppression, which gave rise to Butler's creation, the "Champion Crowdero." Returning to our subject with Thomas Eccles, we have the following interesting account of the unfortunate Violinist, by a musician: "It was about the month of November, 1753, that I, with some friends, were met to spend the evening at a tavern in the City, when this man, in a mean but decent garb, was introduced to us by the waiter; immediately upon opening the door I heard the twang of one of his strings from under his coat, which was accompanied by the question, 'Gentlemen, will you please to hear my music?' Our curiosity, and the modesty of the man's deportment, inclined us to say yes, and music he gave us, such as I had never heard before, nor shall again under the same circumstances. With as fine and delicate a hand as I ever heard, he played the whole fifth and ninth solos of Corelli, and two songs of Mr. Handel; in short, his performance was such as would command the attention of the nicest ear, and left us his auditors much at a loss to guess what it was that constrained him to seek his living in a way so disreputable. He made no secret of his name; he said he was the youngest of three brothers, and that Henry, the middle one, had been his master, and was then in the service of the King of France. He lodged in the Butcher Row, near Temple Bar, and was well known to the musicians of his time, who thought themselves disgraced by this practice of his, for which they have a term of reproach not very intelligible; they call it _going a-busking_."[4] [Footnote 4: The term "busker" is still applied to musicians who perform outside public-houses, on steamboats, and elsewhere.] I have now to mention a Violinist whose talents raised the instrument greatly, particularly in England, viz., Francesco Geminiani. He was instructed by Corelli, and imbibed much of his master's breadth of style. He came to England in the year 1714. In 1716 he published a set of twelve sonatas, which attracted some notice at the time from their novelty. In these he plunged into difficulties deemed then very unusual, but withal his compositions were elegantly written. He afterwards wrote and published solos and concertos, besides a "Treatise on Good Taste," and the "Art of Playing on the Violin," the latter being the first instruction book for the instrument deserving of the name. The instrumental music at this period was composed for four Violins, Tenor, Violoncello, and Double-Bass, and was called the Concerto Grosso. Having lightly sketched the progress of the Violin in England down to about the year 1750, it will, perhaps, be better to take the thread of the instrument's progress in Italy, which we brought to the days of Corelli. The first half of the 18th century was rich in Italian Violinists and writers for the instrument, of whom the chief was Giuseppe Tartini, born 1692. Dr. Burney says of his compositions: "Though he made Corelli his model in the purity of his harmony and simplicity of his modulation, he greatly surpassed that composer in the fertility and originality of his invention; not only in the subjects of his melodies, but in the truly _cantabile_ manner of treating them. Many of his _adagios_ want nothing but _words_ to be excellent pathetic opera songs. His _allegros_ are sometimes difficult; but the passages fairly belong to the instrument for which they were composed, and were suggested by his consummate knowledge of the finger-board and the powers of the bow. As a harmonist he was, perhaps, more truly scientific than any other composer of his time, in the clearness, character, and precision of his Basses, which were never casual, or the effect of habit or auricular prejudice and expectation, but learned, judicious, and certain." It would be difficult to add to this judgment of the compositions of Tartini. The truth of Burney's remarks is better understood at this moment than when penned. During the space of nearly a century the sonatas of Tartini lay dormant, and only within recent years have their beauties been again recognised. Such works as Tartini's are all-important links in the chain of musical progress. Pietro Locatelli, a pupil of Corelli, introduced a style of playing quite in advance of his time. His compositions abound with novel combinations; double stops, harmonics, and arpeggios are displayed with wonderful results. Burney says that "Locatelli had more hand, caprice, and fancy than any Violinist of his time." The immediate follower of the style of Locatelli was Lolli, born 1728, who wrote pleasing airs and used novel effects, but failed to go further. It was one of his feats to play on one string--a performance very properly held in contempt in our day, having neither sense nor grace to recommend it. Felice Giardini was another musician of the style of Locatelli.[5] He was born at Turin, in the year 1716. His performance at Naples and Berlin excited considerable notice. In 1742 he visited England, and created some sensation, his style being new to the British public. [Footnote 5: In "Les Maitres Classiques," edited by M. Alard, and the "Hohe Schule," edited by Ferdinand David, will be found some of the best examples of this composer, as well as of many others noticed here.] Boccherini probably did more towards furthering the cultivation of stringed instrument music than any composer of his day, with the exception of Haydn. There are in his compositions movements of varied styles, well written for their respective instruments. His quintettes are among his chief productions, and their elegance and brilliancy are remarkable. The part allotted to his own instrument, the Violoncello, often bristles with difficulties, and hence it is that these compositions are so seldom heard. Boccherini was the first composer who wrote quintettes with two Violoncello parts. We now reach a stage in the history of the progress of the Violin the importance of which cannot be over-estimated; I refer to the influence which the compositions of Giovanni Battista Viotti exerted upon the cultivation of our instrument. With the famous Viotti sprang up a school of Violin-playing as marked in style as that introduced by Corelli. Viotti was a pupil of Pugnani, and owed his success to the rare teaching of that master. The sensation that Viotti created in Paris was great. His varied style, his rich tone and elegance in playing, were far beyond anything that the Parisian public had previously experienced. With Viotti was ushered in a new era in solo playing. His concertos exhibit the capabilities of the instrument in elegantly constructed passages, such as none but a master of the Violin could pen. He wrote upwards of twenty concertos, those in A minor, in G, in D, and in E minor being the favourites, and to this day highly esteemed by Violinists of every school. His duos and trios are pleasing and effective, and, though long since superseded by works of greater erudition, they form a landmark in the history of the progress of the instrument. Campagnoli, born in 1751, was a composer of rare ability. Had he written nothing but the "Studies on the Seven Positions of the Violin" he would have left enough to mark the character of his genius. Happily he has bequeathed to us many other writings. The "Fantasias and Cadences," forming a book of upwards of 100 pages, is a work full of interest to the Violinist. His modulations are singularly effective. He has also written some Studies for the Tenor, and, lastly, a "Violin School." I cannot but think that Campagnoli's educational compositions do not receive the attention which they merit, and are too often laid aside as old-fashioned. There is a certain quaintness in his writings, but this much may be said of many other compositions whose beauties are not neglected on that account. It would be difficult to find material more solid than that afforded by the writings of Campagnoli, if the foundation of Violin-playing of the highest character is to be laid. We reach the pinnacle of the Italian school of Violin-playing in the wondrous Paganini; born February 18, 1784, died May 27, 1840. It is needless to recount the extraordinary achievements of this remarkable man. M. Fetis and others have collected the most interesting particulars relative to Paganini and his compositions, and to their entertaining accounts the reader can turn for information. It is sufficient to mention that Paganini carried the marvellous in Violin-playing as far as seems possible. The number of his imitators has been enormous, and many of them, withal, so barbarous as to render anything savouring of "a la Paganini" contemptible. The compositions of Paganini are no longer Paganini's when played by others. He, above all Violinists that ever lived, possessed an individuality in his style of playing which has hitherto defied imitation. From Paganini to his pupil Camillo Sivori is the next step in my notice. The artistic career of Sivori was a glorious one. Elegance of style and charming purity of tone were qualities peculiarly his. Antonio Bazzini, both as a solo Violinist and composer for the instrument, has achieved lasting fame. Having endeavoured to lightly sketch the history of Italian performers, and of Italian music bearing on the instrument to the present time, it remains to notice a remarkable follower of the Italian school of Violin-playing in the Norwegian, Ole Bornemann Bull. The executive skill of this famous Violinist was of the highest order, and perhaps no other artist, with the exception of Paganini, gained such a world-wide renown. It is now necessary to refer to the course of events touching the Violin in France. As the influence of Viotti resulted in a remodelling of the French style of playing, our survey will make it necessary to go back the greater part of a century. Jean Marie Leclair, the pupil of Somis, is the first Violinist deserving of mention. He was born at Lyons in 1697. In 1729 he visited Paris, where he was engaged at the opera. He wrote several sonatas for Violin and Bass, and for two Violins and Bass, besides other compositions. The difficulties occurring in many of these writings are of no ordinary character, and if they were rendered with anything approaching to exactness, the progress made on the Violin must have been very rapid between the days of Lulli and those of Leclair. Pierre Gavinies claims attention both as an executant and composer. There is a freshness about his compositions which has caused many of them to be recently roused from their long sleep, and re-issued in the improved garb of a modern edition. His best-known works are the twenty-four Studies, Concertos, and Sonatas. Although there were several Violinists in France of average ability between the time of Gavinies and that of Rode, they scarcely claim attention in this somewhat hasty sketch; and I will, therefore, pass to the players linked with Viotti to his pupil Rode. He was born at Bordeaux in 1774. Fetis remarks, "From Corelli to Rode there is no _hiatus_ in the school, for Corelli was the master of Somis, Somis of Pugnani, Pugnani of Viotti, and Viotti of Rode." His twenty-four Caprices, and his Concertos and Airs, are much admired by all Violinists for their elegance and effectiveness. Paganini played the concertos of Rode publicly upon several occasions; Baillot and Kreutzer were associated with Rode at the Paris Conservatoire, and likewise in the compilation of the well-known Instruction Book written expressly for the use of the pupils at the Conservatoire. Baillot was famed for his admirable bowing and refined playing. Kreutzer is, of course, better known from his Forty Studies than from anything else that he has written. His concertos partake more of the study than of the name they bear, and are valued accordingly. Lafont was instructed by both Rode and Kreutzer, and held a high position among the Violinists of his time. Francois Antoine Habeneck was a pupil of Baillot at the Paris Conservatoire, where he distinguished himself, and became a professor. Among his pupils were Alard, Sainton, and Deldevez. M. Alard was born in 1815. He succeeded Baillot at the Conservatoire in 1843, holding the position for many years, and retiring shortly after the death of his father-in-law, M. Vuillaume. M. Alard was the master of Sarasate. M. Sainton was born in 1813 at Toulouse. He took the first prize at the Conservatoire in 1834. He settled in London in 1845. Shortly afterwards he became principal professor of the Violin at the Royal Academy of Music, and leader under Signor Costa. It now remains for me to notice the Belgian school. The first to name is Charles de Beriot, one of the most delicious players we have had. As a composer for his instrument, he opened up entirely fresh ground; he banished all that was dry, and gave us those fresh and pleasant Airs with Variations, and Morceaux de Salon, teeming with novel effects. It can never be said that De Beriot alarmed the amateurs with outrageous difficulties; on the contrary, he gave them passages comparatively easy to execute, full of effect, and yet withal _astonishing_ to the listener. De Beriot probably made more amateur Violinists than any composer of his time. Henri Vieuxtemps was a thorough master of his art. His Concertos are compositions worthy of the title they bear; they do not consist of a number of difficulties strung together without meaning, but are properly constructed works. He has written many Fantasias, all of which are the delight of good Violinists. His compositions being most difficult to render, they are chiefly known among artists, but in these days of rapid development in Violin-playing among amateurs, a new and wide field will certainly be opened for them. From Belgium to Poland seems a wide step in my discourse, but it is really not so. Although the Polish Violinists retain much originality in their style of playing and compositions, it is to the French school that they belong. Lipinski, Wieniawski, and Lotto were all educated in the Paris school. Lipinski has written a good deal for his instrument, and instructed many well-known players. Henri Wieniawski was essentially a great artist. He was a marvellous Violinist, and displayed great genius as a composer for his instrument. Adolphe Pollitzer settled in London many years since, and occupied a leading position among our resident Violinists. Having lightly touched upon the various heads of the French school, I must again take up the thread of the English history of the instrument from about 1750, at which period we may trace a growing admiration for Violin-playing, notwithstanding the disparagement which this accomplishment received from different notabilities. Foremost among the revilers stands Lord Chesterfield, who considered playing upon any musical instrument to be illiberal in a gentleman. The Violin would seem to have been regarded by his lordship with a supreme amount of displeasure. His opinion of Violinists savoured greatly of that held by the framers of the statute passed in the reign of Elizabeth touching minstrels, who were to be included among "rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars" wandering abroad. Lord Chesterfield says, "Music is usually reckoned one of the liberal arts, and not unjustly, but a man of fashion who is seen piping or Fiddling at a concert degrades his own dignity. If you love music, hear it; _pay Fiddlers to play for you, but never Fiddle yourself_." Such was Lord Chesterfield's advice to his son. It is quite evident that he had no notion of the exquisite enjoyment derivable from being an executant in a quartette, the conversational powers of which have been so frequently noticed. That Lord Chesterfield's strictures discouraged the practice of the Violin in the higher circles of society is very probable, appearing as they do in a work which was held in the light of a textbook upon the conduct of a gentleman for some considerable time. Happily, the hollowness of much of his advice came to be recognised, and he who deemed cards and dice a necessary step towards fashionable perfection, and ordained that Fiddlers were to be paid to play for you as substitutes for your own personal degradation, came to be remembered, possibly, more on account of the laxity of his precepts than for any other reason. In the days of Lord Chesterfield lived Michael Christian Festing, who was particularly zealous in the cause of music. He was a pupil of Geminiani, and wrote several solos. Festing still further carried out the idea of Britton, the "small-coal man," by bringing together a number of noblemen and gentlemen amateurs for the practice of concerted music. They met at the Crown and Anchor Tavern in the Strand, and named their society the "Philharmonic." So much for his furtherance of the art. It now remains to notice the great boon which Festing conferred upon his brother professors and their descendants. It is this which has given his memory lasting life in the annals of English music. We are indebted to Festing as the chief instrument in the formation of the Royal Society of Musicians, which he may be said to have founded in the year 1738. This society derived its origin from the following curious circumstance. Festing being one day seated at the window of the Orange Coffee House, then at the corner of the Haymarket, observed a very intelligent-looking boy, who was driving an ass and selling brickdust. The lad was in a deplorable condition, and excited the pity of the kind-hearted musician, who made inquiries concerning him, and discovered that he was the son of an unfortunate professor of music. Struck with grief and mortification that the forlorn object before him should be the child of a brother musician, Festing resolved to attempt something for the boy's maintenance. Shortly after, with the help of other benevolently-disposed persons, he raised a fund for the support of decayed musicians and their families, and thus laid the foundation of the society, which is the first of its kind in Europe. Handel was one of its first and principal members, and left it a legacy of 1,000 pounds. Little did Festing and his supporters dream that their society, humble enough in 1738, would grow into a society possessing 80,000 pounds in 1874--a sum which, however high-sounding, was all-insufficient to permit the committee to dispense the amount of good desired. Returning again to our subject, we find that in Festing's lifetime there were several patrons of the art, the chief of whom were the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Cumberland, and the Earl of Mornington. Speaking of the Earl, the Hon. Daines Barrington says he "furnishes an instance of early attention to musical instruments. His father played well for a gentleman, on the Violin, which always delighted the child while in his nurse's arms, and long before he could speak." When he was nine years old, "an old portrait-painter came to the family seat, who was a very indifferent performer on the Violin, but persuaded the child that if he tried to play on that instrument, he would soon be able to bear a part in a concert. With this inducement he soon learned the two old catches of the 'Christ-Church Bells,' and 'Sing one, two, three, come follow me;' after which, his father and the painter accompanying him with the other two parts, he experienced the pleasing effects of a harmony to which he himself contributed. Soon after this he was able to play the second Violin in Corelli's sonatas, which gave him a steadiness in time that never deserted him." We may now glance at the period when Salomon came to England in 1781. Too much stress can scarcely be laid upon the good effected by Salomon's talents for the progress of music, and more particularly in behalf of instrumental music. We are deeply indebted to this musician for the spirit and enterprise which he displayed, in bringing to England, at no trifling pecuniary risk, the immortal Haydn. Salomon having established a series of twenty concerts in 1790, it occurred to him that to invite the famous musician to London would aid his enterprise. He communicated with Haydn, offering him the sum of fifty pounds for each concert. These terms were accepted, and Haydn set out for London, at the age of fifty-nine. He remained in England over a year, and composed the celebrated "Twelve Symphonies" known as the Salomon set. Salomon was one of the promoters of the Philharmonic Society, and led the orchestra at the first concert given by the society in 1813. Enough has been said to show the nature of the part he took in the development of music in England. Enjoying the friendship of those who moved in the higher circles of society, where his polished manners and high attainments ever made him a welcome guest, he was enabled to command such patronage as to make his laudable ventures successful. Among the Violinists of Salomon's day, resident in England, were William and Francois Cramer, to whom severally were assigned the leadership of the Ancient Concerts and of the Opera. The next Violinist who gained some celebrity was Nicholas Mori, born in London in the year 1796. He was associated with the formation of the Royal Academy of Music, in Tenterden Street, and became the principal instructor on the Violin at that institution. Paolo Diana (a Cremonese known under his adopted name of Spagnoletti) and Kieswetter each contributed his share towards the advancement of the instrument during their stay in this country. The names of Dando and Henry Blagrove bring us to the players of our own time. These thoroughly representative English Violinists have done much to raise the standard of the public taste. In the year 1835, the "Concerti da Camera" were established (in imitation of those given in Paris by Pierre Baillot), and served to extend our knowledge of classical chamber music. The formation of the Musical Union still further increased our knowledge and taste in the same direction. The long roll of celebrated Continental artists introduced at the Society's concerts sufficiently stamps its character. All that remained to be done was to make the Quartette popular, and to bring it within the reach of all. This has been achieved by the indefatigable labours of Mr. Chappell in his _Monday Popular Concerts_. For some time the public failed to appreciate Mr. Chappell's scheme, but the enterprising director, nothing daunted, continued his course, and had ultimately the gratification of being besieged in his citadel at St. James's Hall, from the commencement of the season to its close. Before closing our remarks on the progress of Violin-playing in England, we have still to mention a few other names in connection with this subject. Henry C. Cooper was a Violinist who ranked with the chief representatives of the English Soloists, and during a long professional career achieved much success. He set on foot, together with his coadjutors, M. Sainton, Hill, and Signor Piatti, the Quartette Association, the concerts of which were given at Willis's Rooms during several seasons. The career of Mr. John Carrodus was watched by his brother artists with much interest. As a pupil of Herr Molique, he gave early signs of exceptional talents; it was felt that he must inevitably come to the front; all that was predicted, and even more, in due time came to pass. He achieved a commanding position among the foremost Violinists of our time, both as a soloist and leader. With the names of Messrs. Henry and Alfred Holmes, I come to a close of the English branch of the subject. The brothers Holmes attracted the notice of Spohr, who was so delighted with their abilities that he composed and dedicated to them three Duets for two Violins. The first name of any note in connection with the Violin in Germany is that of Graun, who was born in the year 1700. He became concertmaster to the King of Prussia, and excelled as a Violinist. His pupil, Francis Benda, next claims attention. Dr. Burney says of him: "His manner was neither that of Tartini nor of Veracini, nor that of any other leader; it was purely his own, though founded on the several models of the greatest masters;" and Hillar tells us that "his tones were of the finest description, the clearest and most euphonious that can be imagined." Benda published studies for his instrument, and also several solos and other works, all of which are admired for their good and _cantabile_ style. About this period appeared the admirable compositions for the Violin of that great master of his art, John Sebastian Bach--works differing essentially from those of his contemporaries. "He was not of an age, but for all time." To describe the character and beauties of Bach's Violin writings is within neither my province nor capacity. As an amateur Violinist and an observer of all that relates to the Violin, I may refer, however, to the vast amount of good which the compositions of Bach have exercised upon the cultivation of Violin-playing, and the marvellous development that they have received at the hands of many of our leading Violinists. For this happy state of things we are largely indebted to Herr Joachim; but for him these treasures might have remained hidden behind a cloud of _airs varies_, fantasias, and what not, for many a year to come. Herr Joachim has made the Sonatas of Bach familiar to thousands who a few years since scarcely knew of their existence. The difficulties which abound in these solid writings could only have been written by a master perfectly acquainted with the capabilities of the instrument. Many a tyro who plunges into the stream of Bach's crotchets and quavers soon finds himself encompassed by a whirlpool of seeming impossibilities, and is frequently heard to exclaim that the passages are impracticable. Vain delusion! Bach was himself a Violinist, and never penned a passage the rendering of which is impossible. The ease and grace with which a Joachim makes every note heard and felt, induces many a one to wrestle with Bach, the more so when it is found that the great author has confined himself to the lower positions of the instrument. Vain delusion number two! Bach exacts more on _terra firma_ than many later writers have claimed in their wildest aerial flights. From Bach to Handel is an easy step in our discourse. They were born within a year of each other, and were possessed of minds of similar calibre, though differently exercised. It would not, perhaps, be over-strained to call them respectively the Nelson and Wellington of music. The compositions of Handel materially advanced the Violin. His Overtures, Trios, Sonatas, and Concertos, were all received with the utmost attention, and led on to works by later composers, which would probably have never existed but for Handel's example. We now reach the time when the Symphony was perfected by Haydn, who, following the steps of Bach, brought this branch of the art to a degree of perfection hitherto unknown. The influence of this composer on the progress of the Violin cannot be over-estimated. The Quartettes of Haydn are too well known to need more than mention here. The Quartettes of Giardini and Pugnani were laid aside to give place to these inspired compositions. The following amusing comparison, drawn by a lady, between the Quartettes of Haydn and the speech of articulate humanity appears in Bombet's "Letters on Haydn," and, though pretty well known, will lose nothing by repetition:-- "In listening to the Quartettes of Haydn, this lady felt as if present at a conversation of four agreeable persons. She thought that the first Violin had the air of an eloquent man of genius, of middle age, who supported a conversation, the subject of which he had suggested. In the second Violin she recognised a friend of the first, who sought by all possible means to display him to advantage, seldom thought of himself, and kept up the conversation rather by assenting to what was said by the others than by advancing any ideas of his own. The Alto was a grave, learned, and sententious man. He supported the discourse of the first Violin by laconic maxims, striking for their truth. The Bass was a worthy old lady, rather inclined to chatter, who said nothing of much consequence, and while she was talking the other interlocutors had time to breathe. It was, however, evident that she had a secret inclination for the Alto, which she preferred to the other instruments." It may be said that the foregoing extract is more funny than just. Probably this is the case; however, I make use of it as throwing some light on the enjoyment derivable from listening to a Quartette, without reference to its critical bearings. Resuming our subject again: Haydn wrote eight easy Sonatas for Violin and Pianoforte, but they are not of sufficient importance to cause them to be much played. Haydn used frequently to take the Tenor parts in his Quartettes. Leopold Mozart, born in 1719, the father of the illustrious musician, was a Violinist, and wrote a "Method" for his instrument. He died in 1787. To the great Mozart Violinists owe much; his compositions for the instrument raised its standing considerably. It is unnecessary to give here a detailed list of those of his writings in which the Violin takes part--they are happily known to most players. Mozart played the Violin from boyhood, and was taught by his father. It is gratifying to know that nearly all the great composers played upon stringed instruments, if not with proficiency, yet enough to enable them to make pleasurable use of their acquirements. Sebastian Bach, Handel, and Schubert were Violin-players; Haydn and Mendelssohn could take their Tenor part in a Quartette; and lastly, Beethoven used to amuse himself with the Double-Bass. Their compositions evidence a practical knowledge of stringed instruments, as distinct from theory. The glorious compositions of Beethoven for the Violin need no comment here; their beauties have formed the theme of the ablest critics; and I have no desire to contribute my humble mite to their exhaustive remarks. With Fesca we again come amongst the Violinists. He was born at Magdeburg, in 1789. His Quartettes are very pleasing compositions; they are chiefly "Solo Quartettes." The next Violinist claiming attention is the highly gifted Louis Spohr, the greatest composer for the Violin that ever lived, who combined in his own person high executive powers with a rare fecundity of classical composition. The Concertos of Spohr belong to an entirely different class from those of Viotti, Kreutzer, and others, inasmuch as Spohr's music is written so as not only to display the beauties of the instrument, but also to give the noblest specimens of its orchestration. His Duets for two Violins, his Tenor and Violin Duets and Quartettes, are all too well known to need more than passing mention. From Spohr has grown up a school of Violin-playing of a very distinctive character. Bernard Molique was endowed with great powers, both as a performer and a composer for his instrument. His Concertos are compositions of the highest character, and require for their rendering a finished artist. Joseph Mayseder was a Violinist of an order distinct from that of Spohr or Molique. His style was exceedingly brilliant. Mayseder may also be said to have created a school of his own, and, owing to the circulation that his compositions obtained in England, his style was introduced among a great number of our countrymen. Kalliwoda wrote and played very much in the Mayseder manner. His Airs and Variations are especially brilliant compositions; his Overtures are also much admired for their sparkling and dramatic character. I come now to notice one of the greatest artistes of our time--Herr Ernst--whose playing was impassioned in the highest degree. He made the Violin express his innermost thoughts in tones of delicious tenderness, such as his hearers can never forget. By nature noble, generous, and affectionate, the shade and substance of each trait was faithfully reflected in his exquisite playing. His compositions are among the finest solo writings we have. To mention his "Otello," "Airs Hongrois," "Le Prophete," and his "Studies," will be sufficient to call to the mind of most Violinists the high character of his compositions. It now only remains for me to briefly allude to the German artists each Concert Season makes us familiar with. First and foremost, the mighty Herr Joachim, a host in himself. His able coadjutor, Herr Strauss, was justly admired for his intellectual rendering of the great masters, and the artistic spirit he invariably displayed. Herr Wilhelmj was regarded as one of the first players of our time, his executive powers being of the highest order. SECTION XV Anecdotes and Miscellanea connected with the Violin [Illustration: "The Squire, in state, rode on before, . . . . . The Trophy-Fiddle, and the case Leaning on shoulder, like a mace."] HUDIBRAS AND THE CHAMPION CROWDERO. The important part played by the renowned Champion Crowdero in Butler's inimitable satire has never failed to give keen enjoyment to all lovers of wit and humour. This being so, his exploits should be doubly appreciated by the votaries of the Fiddle, since it was he who valiantly defended the cause of Fiddling against the attacks of Hudibras-- "When civil dudgeon first grew high, And men fell out, they knew not why; When hard words, jealousies, and fears Set folks together by the ears, And made them fight, like mad or drunk. . . . . . Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling, And out he rode a-colonelling." The absurdities into which the genius of Cervantes hurried Don Quixote and Sancho served to moderate the extravagances of knight-errantry. The adventures of Hudibras and Ralpho, undertaken to extinguish the sports and pastimes of the people, aided greatly in staying the hand of fanaticism, which had suppressed all stage plays and interludes as "condemned by ancient heathens, and by no means to be tolerated among professors of the Christian religion." With Crowdero we are taken back upwards of two centuries in the history of the Violin; from times wherein it is held in the highest esteem and admiration, to days when it was regarded with contempt and ridicule. Crowdero (so called from _crowd_, a Fiddle) was the fictitious name for one Jackson, a milliner, who lived in the New Exchange, in the Strand. He had served with the Roundheads, and lost a leg, which brought him into reduced circumstances, until he was obliged to Fiddle from one alehouse to another for his existence. Hudibras-- "On stirrup-side, he gaz'd about Portending blood, like blazing star, The beacon of approaching war. . . . . . Ralpho rode on, with no less speed Than Hugo in the forest did; But far more in returning made, For now the foe he had survey'd Rang'd, as to him they did appear, With van, main battle, wings, and rear. I' th' head of all this warlike rabble, Crowdero marched, expert and able. Instead of trumpet and of drum, That makes the warrior's stomach come, Whose noise whets valour sharp, like beer By thunder turn'd to vinegar; (For if a trumpet sound, or drum beat, Who has not a month's mind to combat?) A squeaking engine he apply'd Unto his neck on north-east side,[1] Just where the hangman does dispose, To special friends, the knot or noose; For 'tis great grace, when statesmen straight Dispatch a friend, let others wait. His warped ear hung o'er the strings, Which was but souse to chitterlings;[2] For guts, some write, ere they are sodden, Are fit for music, or for pudding;[3] From whence men borrow ev'ry kind Of minstrelsy, by string or wind. His grisly beard was long and thick, With which he strung his Fiddle-stick; For he to horse-tail scorned to owe For what on his own chin did grow. . . . . . And now the field of death, the lists, Were enter'd by antagonists, And blood was ready to be broach'd, When Hudibras in haste approach'd With Squire and weapons, to attack 'em; But first thus from his horse bespoke 'em, 'What rage, O citizens! What fury Doth you to these dire actions hurry? . . . . . In name of King and Parliament I charge ye all--no more foment. . . . . . ... first surrender The Fiddler as the prime offender, Th' incendiary vile, that is chief Author and engineer of mischief; That makes division between friends For profane and malignant ends.[4] He and that engine of vile noise On which illegally he plays,[5] Shall (_dictum factum_) both be brought To condign punishment, as they ought.' . . . . . This said he clapped his hand on sword, To show he meant to keep his word. . . . . . He drew up all his force into One body and into one blow. . . . . . The Knight, with all its weight, fell down . . . . . Like a feather bed betwixt a wall And heavy brunt of cannon ball. . . . . . Crowdero only kept the field, Not stirring from the place he held; Though beaten down and wounded sore, I' th' Fiddle, and a leg that bore One side of him--not that of bone, But much its better, th' wooden one. He spying Hudibras lie strew'd Upon the ground, like log of wood, . . . . . In haste he snatch'd the wooden limb That, hurt in th' ankle, lay by him, And, fitting it for sudden fight, Straight drew it up, t' attack the Knight; . . . . . Vowing to be reveng'd, for breach Of Crowd and skin, upon the wretch,[6] Sole author of all detriment He and his Fiddle underwent. . . . . . When Ralpho thrust himself between, He took the blow upon his arm, To shield the Knight from further harm, And, joining wrath with force, bestow'd On th' wooden member such a load, That down it fell and with it bore Crowdero, whom it propp'd before. To him the Squire right nimbly run, And setting his bold foot upon His trunk, thus spoke: 'What desp'rate frenzy Made thee, thou whelp of sin, to fancy Thyself, and all that coward rabble, To encounter us in battle able? How durst th', I say, oppose thy curship 'Gainst, arms, authority, and worship, And Hudibras or me provoke, . . . . . ... but first our care Must see how Hudibras doth fare.' This said, he gently rais'd the Knight, . . . . . To rouse him from lethargic dump, He tweak'd his nose with gentle thump, Knock'd on his breast, as if't had been To raise the spirits lodg'd within; They, waken'd with the noise, did fly From inward room to window eye, And gently op'ning lid, the casement, Look'd out, but yet with some amazement. This gladded Ralpho much to see, Who thus bespoke the Knight; quoth he, Tweaking his nose, 'You are, great sir, A self-denying conqueror; As high, victorious, and great As e'er fought for the churches yet. . . . . . ... The foe, for dread Of your nine-worthiness, is fled; All, save Crowdero, for whose sake You did th' espous'd cause undertake; And he lies pris'ner at your feet, To be disposed as you think meet, Either for life, or death, or sale, The gallows, or perpetual jail; For one wink of your powerful eye Must sentence him to live or die; His Fiddle is your proper purchase, Won in the service of the Churches; And by your doom must be allow'd To be or be no more, a _Crowd_.' . . . . . ... The Knight began to rouse, And by degrees grew valorous; He stared about, and seeing none Of all his foes remain, but one, He snatch'd his weapon that lay near him, And from the ground began to rear him, Vowing to make Crowdero pay For all the rest that ran away. But Ralpho now, in colder blood, His fury mildly thus withstood. 'Great sir,' quoth he, 'your mighty spirit Is raised too high; this slave doth merit To be the hangman's business sooner Than from your hand to have the honour Of his destruction; I, that am A nothingness in deed and name, Did scorn to hurt his forfeit carcase, Or ill entreat his Fiddle or case; . . . . . Will you employ your conq'ring sword To break a Fiddle, and your word? . . . . . ... I think it better far To keep him prisoner of war.' . . . . . He liked the squire's advice, and soon Resolved to see the business done. . . . . . Ralpho dispatched with speedy haste, And having ty'd Crowdero fast, He gave Sir Knight the end of cord, To lead the captive of his sword. . . . . . The Squire in state rode on before, And on his nut-brown whinyard bore The Trophy-Fiddle, and the case Leaning on shoulder, like a mace.[7] The Knight himself did after ride, Leading Crowdero by his side, And tow'd him if he lagg'd behind, Like boat against the tide and wind. Thus grave and solemn they march on, Until quite thro' the town th' had gone, At further end of which there stands An ancient castle, that commands[8] Th' adjacent parts; in all the fabric You shall not see one stone nor a brick But all of wood, by powerful spell Of magic made impregnable. . . . . . Thither arriv'd, th' advent'rous Knight And bold Squire from their steeds alight At th' outward wall, near which there stands A bastile, built t' imprison hands; . . . . . On top of this there is a spire On which Sir Knight first bids the Squire The Fiddle, and its spoils, the case,[9] In manner of a trophy, place. That done, they ope the trapdoor gate, And let Crowdero down thereat; Crowdero making doleful face, Like hermit poor in pensive place. To dungeon they the wretch commit, And the survivor of his feet, But the other that had broke the peace And head of knighthood, they release, Though a delinquent false and forged, Yet b'ing a stranger, he's enlarged, While his comrade that did not hurt Is clapp'd up fast in prison for't; So Justice, while she winks at crimes, Stumbles on innocence sometimes." [Illustration: Spire with Fiddle and case.] [Footnote 1: Several explanations of this passage have been set forth by Butler's commentators. Dr. Grey asks, "Why the north-east side? Do Fiddlers always, or most generally, stand or sit according to the points of the compass?" Dr. Nash suggests the poet may have had in view "a conceit," which is in Brown's "Vulgar Errors," viz., that the body of man is magnetical, and being placed in a boat will never rest till the head respecteth the north. Dr. Nash remarks, "Now, the body lying on its back with its head towards the north, or standing upright with the face towards the east, the reader will find the place of the Fiddle on the left breast to be due north-east."] [Footnote 2: Dr. Nash says, "Souse is the pig's ear, and chitterlings the pig's guts; the former alludes to Crowdero's ear, which lay on the Fiddle; the latter to the strings of the Fiddle, which are made of catgut."] [Footnote 3: Black pudding and sausages are placed in skins of gut.] [Footnote 4: This passage evidently refers to Violists meeting to make division to a ground, namely, in the words of Christopher Simpson, "A ground, subject, or bass (call it which you please) is prickt (written) down in two several papers, one for him who is to play the ground (upon an organ, harpsichord, or other instrument), the other for him who plays upon the Viol, who having the said ground before his eye (as his theme or subject) plays such variety of descant and division thereupon as his skill and present invention do then suggest to him." The poet's allusion to "Th' incendiary vile (Viol) that is chief author and engineer of mischief" humorously points to the popularity of the Viol. The poet's mention of persons meeting and performing on their Viols, thus making "... division between friends, For profane and malignant ends," is evidently a most humorous allusion to the case of the Royalist, Sir Roger L'Estrange, the friend of Butler, and to whom was given the names of the real persons shadowed under fictitious characters in the satire. Sir Roger, whilst in St. James's Park, heard an Organ being played in the house of one Mr. Hickson. His intense love of music prompted him to seek admittance. He found there a company of five or six persons, and being himself a good Violist, was prevailed upon to take a part. By-and-by Cromwell entered, without, Sir Roger explains in a pamphlet ("Truth and Loyalty Vindicated," printed the year before the first part of Hudibras was published, in 1662), "the least colour of a design or expectation." Sir Roger went on making division with his Viol, apparently regardless of the presence of the Protector and thus earned for himself the title of Oliver's Fiddler, besides giving rise to the report that he solicited a private conference with Cromwell under the pretext of "making division" with his Viol. Dr. Johnson has truly said of Hudibras, "The manners, being founded on opinions, are temporary and local, and therefore become every day less intelligible and less striking.... Much, therefore, of that humour which transported the century with merriment is lost to us, who do not know the sour solemnity, the sullen superstition, the gloomy moroseness, and the stubborn scruples of the ancient Puritans, ... and cannot, but by recollection and study, understand the lines in which they are satirised. Our grandfathers knew the picture from the life; we judge of the life by contemplating the picture."] [Footnote 5: Alluding to an ordinance made in 1658: "And be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that if any person or persons, commonly called Fiddlers, or minstrels, shall at any time after the said first day of July (1657) be taken playing, Fiddling, and making music in any inn, alehouse, or tavern, or shall be taken proffering themselves, or desiring, or intreating any person or persons to hear them play, &c., &c., shall be adjudged ... rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars."] [Footnote 6: Crowd, a Fiddle, and therefore for injury done by "breach," or cracks, to Crowdero's instrument.] [Footnote 7: The Fiddle-case referred to is one covered with leather, studded with nails, and with a lid opening at the end, and might be likened unto a mace.] [Footnote 8: "This is an enigmatical description of a pair of stocks and whipping-post. It is so pompous and sublime that we are surprised so noble a structure could be raised from so ludicrous a subject. We perceive wit and humour in the strongest light in every part of the description."--_Note by Dr. Grey_.] [Footnote 9: Dr. Nash suggests the following rendering: "His spoils, the Fiddle, and the case."] GEORGE HERBERT'S REFERENCES TO MUSIC. George Herbert, poet and divine, said of music, "That it did relieve his drooping spirits, compose his distracted thoughts, and raised his weary soul so far above earth, that it gave him an earnest of the joys of heaven before he possessed them." His worthy biographer, Izaak Walton, tells us--"His chiefest recreation was music, in which heavenly art he was a most excellent master, and did himself compose many divine hymns and anthems, which he set and sung to his Lute or Viol; and though he was a lover of retiredness, yet his love to music was such that he went usually twice every week, on certain appointed days, to the Cathedral Church in Salisbury, and at his return would say, 'That his time spent in prayer and Cathedral music elevated his soul, and was his heaven upon earth.' But before his return thence to Bemerton, he would usually sing and play his part at an appointed private music meeting; and, to justify this practice, he would often say, 'Religion does not banish mirth, but only moderates and sets rules to it.'" In walking to Salisbury upon one occasion to attend his usual music meeting, George Herbert saw a poor man with a poor horse that was fallen under his load. He helped the man to unload and re-load; the poor man blessed him for it, and he blessed the poor man. Upon reaching his musical friends at Salisbury they were surprised to see him so soiled and discomposed; but he told them the occasion, and when one of the company said to him "He had disparaged himself by so dirty an employment," his answer was, "That the thought of what he had done would prove music to him at midnight; and that the omission of it would have upbraided and made discord in his conscience whenever he should pass by that place; 'for if I be bound to pray for all that be in distress, I am sure that I am bound, so far as it is in my power, to practise what I pray for; and though I do not wish for the like occasion every day, yet let me tell you, I would not willingly pass one day of my life without comforting a sad soul, or showing mercy; and I praise God for this occasion; and now let us tune our instruments.'" Herbert's love of imagery was often curious and startling. In singing of "Easter" he said-- "Awake my lute and struggle for thy part With all thy heart. The Cross taught all wood to resound His name, Who bore the same. His stretched sinews taught all strings, what key Is best to celebrate this most high day, Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song Pleasant and long: Or since all music is but three parts vied And multiplied, O let thy blessed spirit bear a part, And make up our defects with his sweet art." The Sunday before the death of "Holy George Herbert," Izaak Walton says, "he rose suddenly from his bed, or couch, called for one of his instruments, took it into his hand and said-- "My God, my God, my music shall find Thee; And every string Shall have his attribute to sing." And having tuned it, he played and sung-- "The Sundays of man's life, Threaded together on Time's string, Make bracelets to adorn the wife Of the eternal, glorious King; On Sundays heaven's door stands ope, Blessings are plentiful and ripe, More plentiful than hope." The thought to which Herbert has given expression in his lines on Easter--that "All music is but three parts vied and multiplied"--was also in the mind of Christopher Simpson, who, in his work on "The Division Viol," 1659, uses it as a musical illustration of the doctrine of Trinity in Unity. He says: "I cannot but wonder, even to amazement, that from no more than three concords (with some intervening discords) there should arise such an infinite variety, as all the music that ever has been, or ever shall be, composed. When I further consider that these sounds, placed by the interval of a third one above another, do constitute one entire harmony, which governs and comprises all the sounds that by art or imagination can be joined together in musical concordance, _that_, I cannot but think a significant emblem of that Supreme and Incomprehensible Three in One, governing, comprising, and disposing the whole machine of the world, with all its included parts, in a most perfect and stupendous harmony." It is interesting to notice an earlier and remarkable allusion to the union of sound from the pen of Shakespeare-- "If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, By unions married, do offend thine ear, They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, Strikes each in each by mutual ordering, Resembling sire and child and happy mother, Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing." VIOLINS FROM A MEDICAL POINT OF VIEW. "Music and the sounds of instruments--says the lively Vigneul de Marville--contribute to the health of the body and the mind; they assist the circulation of the blood, they dissipate vapours, and open the vessels, so that the action of perspiration is freer. He tells the story of a person of distinction, who assured him that once being suddenly seized by violent illness, instead of a consultation of physicians, he immediately called a band of musicians, and their Violins played so well in his inside that his bowels became perfectly in tune, and in a few hours were harmoniously becalmed."--_D'Israeli's_ "_Curiosities of Literature_." Dr. Abercrombie recommends "Careful classification of the insane, so that the mild and peaceful melancholic may not be harassed by the ravings of the maniac. The importance of this is obvious; but of still greater importance," he continues, "it will probably be to watch the first dawnings of reason, and instantly to remove from the patient all associates by whom his mind might be again bewildered." The following case, mentioned by Pinel, is certainly an extreme one, but much important reflection arises out of it:-- "A musician confined in the Bicetre, as one of the first symptoms of returning reason, made some slight allusion to his favourite instrument. It was immediately procured for him; he occupied himself with music for several hours every day, and his convalescence seemed to be advancing rapidly. But he was then, unfortunately, allowed to come frequently in contact with a furious maniac, by meeting him in the gardens. The musician's mind was unhinged; _his Violin was destroyed;_ and he fell back into a state of insanity which was considered as confirmed and hopeless."--_Abercrombie's_ "_Intellectual Powers_." "A MUSICIAN is like an Echo, a retail dealer in sounds. As Diana is the goddess of the silver bow, so is he the Lord of the wooden one; he has a hundred strings in his bow; other people are bow-_legged_, he is bow-_armed_; and though armed with a bow he has no skill in archery. He plays with _cat_-gut and _Kit_-Fiddle. His fingers and arms run a constant race; the former would run away from him did not a bridge interpose and oblige him to pay toll. He can distinguish sounds as other men distinguish colours. His companions are crotchets and quavers. Time will never be a match for him, for he _beats_ him most unmercifully. He runs after an Italian air open-mouthed, with as much eagerness as some fools have sought the philosopher's stone. He can bring a tune over the seas, and thinks it more excellent because far-fetched. His most admired domestics are Soprano, Siciliano, Andantino, and all the Anos and Inos that constitute the musical science. He can scrape, scratch, shake, diminish, increase, flourish, &c.; and he is so delighted with the sound of his own Viol, that an ass would sooner lend his ears to anything than to him; and as a dog shakes a pig, so does he shake a note _by the ear_, and never lets it go till he makes it squeak. He is a walking pillory, and crucifies more ears than a dozen standing ones. He often involves himself in dark and intricate passages, till he is put to a _shift_, and obliged to get out of a _scrape_--by scraping. His Viol has the effect of a _Scotch_ Fiddle, for it irritates his hearers, and puts them to the itch. He tears his audience in various ways, as I do this subject; and as I wear away my pen, so does he wear away the strings of his Fiddle. There is no medium to him; he is either in a flat or a sharp key, though both are _natural_ to him. He deals in third minors, and major thirds; proves a turncoat, and is often in the majority and the minority in the course of a few minutes. He runs over the _flat_ as often as any Newmarket racehorse; both meet the same fate, as they usually terminate in a _cadence_; the difference is--one is driven by the _whip-hand_, the other by the _bow-arm_; one deals in _stakado_, the other in _staccato_. As a thoroughbred hound discovers, by instinct, his game from all other animals, so an experienced musician _feels_ the compositions of Handel or Corelli.--Yours, TIMOTHY CATGUT, Stamford."--_Monthly Mirror_. ORIGIN OF TARTINI'S "DEVIL'S SONATA." The following interesting account of this marvellous composition was given by Tartini to M. de Lalande, the celebrated astronomer:-- "One night in the year 1713, I dreamed that I had made a compact with his Satanic Majesty, by which he was received into my service. Everything succeeded to the utmost of my desire, and my every wish was anticipated by this my new domestic. I thought that on taking up my Violin to practise, I jocosely asked him if he could play on that instrument. He answered that he believed he was able to pick out a tune; and then, to my astonishment, began to play a sonata, so strange and yet so beautiful, and executed in so masterly a manner, that I had never in my life heard anything so exquisite. So great was my amazement that I could scarcely breathe. Awakened by the violent emotion, I instantly seized my Violin, in the hope of being able to catch some part of the ravishing melody which I had just heard, but all in vain. The piece which I composed according to my scattered recollection is, it is true, the best of my works. I have called it the 'Sonata del Diavolo,' but it is so far inferior to the one I heard in my dream, that I should have dashed my Violin into a thousand pieces, and given up music for ever, had it been possible to deprive myself of the enjoyments which I derive from it." [Illustration: The Devil Playing for Tartini.] In the "Reminiscences of Michael Kelly" we are told that in the year 1779 Kelly was at Florence, and that he was present at a concert given at the residence of Lord Cowper, where, he says, he had "the gratification of hearing a sonata on the Violin played by the great Nardini; though very far advanced in years, he played divinely. Lord Cowper requested him to play the popular sonata, composed by his master, Tartini, called the 'Devil's Sonata.' Mr. Jackson, an English gentleman present, asked Nardini whether the anecdote relative to this piece of music was true. Nardini answered that 'he had frequently heard Tartini relate the circumstance,' and at once gave an account of the composition, in accordance with that furnished by M. de Lalande." DR. JOHNSON AND THE VIOLIN. "Dr. Johnson was observed by a musical friend of his to be extremely inattentive at a concert, whilst a celebrated solo-player was running up the divisions and sub-divisions of notes upon his Violin. His friend, to induce him to take greater notice of what was going on, told him how extremely difficult it was. 'Difficult do you call it, sir?' replied the Doctor; 'I wish it were _impossible_.'"--_Seward's_ "_Anecdotes of Dr. Johnson_." "In the evening our gentleman farmer and two others entertained themselves and the company with a great number of tunes on the Fiddle. Johnson desired to have 'Let ambition fire thy mind' played over again, and appeared to give a patient attention to it; though he owned to me that he was very insensible to the power of music. I told him that it affected me to such a degree, as often to agitate my nerves painfully, producing in my mind alternate sensations of pathetic dejection, so that I was ready to shed tears; and of daring resolution, so that I was inclined to rush into the thickest part of the battle. 'Sir,' said he, 'I should never hear it if it made me such a fool.'"--_Boswell's_ "_Life of Johnson_." DR. JOHNSON ON THE DIFFICULTY OF PLAYING THE FIDDLE. "_Goldsmith_: 'I spoke of Mr. Harris, of Salisbury, as being a very learned man, and in particular an eminent Grecian.' "_Johnson_: 'I am not sure of that. His friends give him out as such, but I know not who of his friends are able to judge of it.' "_Goldsmith_: 'He is what is much better; he is a worthy, humane man.' "_Johnson_: 'Nay, sir, that is not to the purpose of our argument; that will as much prove that he can play upon the Fiddle as well as Giardini, as that he is an eminent Grecian.' "_Goldsmith_: 'The greatest musical performers have but small emoluments; Giardini, I am told, does not get above seven hundred a year.' "_Johnson_: 'That is indeed but little for a man to get, who does best that which so many endeavour to do. There is nothing, I think, in which the power of art is shown so much as in playing on the Fiddle. In all other things we can do something at first; any man will forge a bar of iron if you give him a hammer; not so well as a smith, but tolerably; and make a box, though a clumsy one; but give him a Fiddle and a Fiddlestick, and he can do nothing.'"--_Boswell's_ "_Life of Johnson_." DR. JOHNSON'S EPITAPH ON PHILLIPS, THE WELSH VIOLINIST. Johnson and Garrick were sitting together, when among other things Garrick repeated an epitaph upon Phillips, by a Dr. Wilkes, which was very commonplace, and Johnson said to Garrick, "I think, Davy, I can make a better." Then, stirring about his tea for a little while in a state of meditation, he, almost extempore, produced the following verses:-- "Phillips, whose touch harmonious could remove The pangs of guilty power or hapless love; Rest here, distress'd by poverty no more; Here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before; Sleep undisturbed within this peaceful shrine, Till angels wake thee with a note like thine!" Boswell says, "Mr. Garrick appears not to have recited the verses correctly, the original being as follows. One of the various readings is remarkable, and it is the germ of Johnson's concluding line:-- "Exalted soul, thy various sounds could please The love-sick virgin, and the gouty ease; Could jarring _crowds_, like old Amphion, move To beauteous order and harmonious love; Rest here in peace, till angels bid thee rise, And meet thy Saviour's _concert_ in the skies." Boswell's "Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides" contains the author's letter to Garrick asking him to send the "bad verses which led Johnson to make his fine verses on Phillips the musician." Garrick replied, enclosing the desired epitaph. Boswell remarks, "This epitaph is so exquisitely beautiful that I remember even Lord Kames, strangely prejudiced as he was against Dr. Johnson, was compelled to allow it very high praise. It has been ascribed to Garrick, from its appearing at first with the signature G.; but I heard Mr. Garrick declare that it was written by Dr. Johnson." The epitaph of Phillips is in the porch of Wolverhampton Church. The prose part of it is curious:-- Near this place lies Charles Claudius Phillips, Whose absolute contempt of riches, and inimitable performances upon the Violin, made him the admiration of all that knew him. He was born in Wales, made the tour of Europe, and, after the experience of both kinds of fortune, Died in 1732. DR. JOHNSON'S KNOWLEDGE OF MUSIC. He said he knew "a drum from a trumpet, and a bagpipe from a guitar, which was about the extent of his knowledge of music." He further tells us that "if he had learnt music he should have been afraid he should have done nothing else but play. It was a method of employing the mind, without the labour of thinking at all, and with some applause from a man's self." These remarks are better appraised and understood when we bear in mind Dr. Johnson's own estimate of his musical knowledge together with his having derived pleasure from listening to the sounds of the bagpipes. If a performance on those droning instruments was in the Doctor's mind when he said that the reflective powers need not be exercised in performing on a musical instrument, there might be some truth in the observation. The labour of thinking, however, cannot be dispensed with in connection with playing most musical instruments, and least of all the Violin. DR. JOHNSON ON FIDDLING AND FREE WILL. "_Johnson_: 'Moral evil is occasioned by free will, which implies choice between good and evil. With all the evil that there is, there is no man but would rather be a free agent, than a mere machine without the evil; and what is best for each individual must be best for the whole. If a man would rather be the machine, I cannot argue with him. He is a different being from me.' "_Boswell_: 'A man, as a machine, may have agreeable sensations; for instance, he may have pleasure in music.' "_Johnson_: 'No, sir, he cannot have pleasure in music; at least no power of producing music; for he who can produce music may let it alone; he who can play upon a Fiddle may break it: such a man is not a machine.'"--"_Tour to the Hebrides_." HAYDN IN LONDON.--A "SWEET STRADIVARI." (BY PERMISSION OF MR. JOHN MURRAY.) The following extracts, taken from "A Country Clergyman of the Eighteenth Century," a pleasant and entertaining book (consisting of selections from the correspondence of the Rev. Thomas Twining, M.A.), cannot fail to interest the reader. The Rev. Thomas Twining was born in 1735. He was an excellent musician, both in theory and practice, and a lover of the Violin. He had collected much valuable information with regard to music, with a view to writing a history of the subject. Upon learning that Dr. Burney was engaged on his History of Music, he not only generously placed his valuable notes at the service of the Doctor, but revised the manuscript of his friend's History. Dr. Burney, in the preface of his work, says: "In order to satisfy the sentiments of friendship, as well as those of gratitude, I must publicly acknowledge my obligations to the zeal, intelligence, taste, and erudition of the Rev. Mr. Twining, a gentleman whose least merit is being perfectly acquainted with every branch of theoretical and practical music." The publication of the volume containing the interesting correspondence between Dr. Burney and his friend not only serves to enlighten us relative to the substantial aid given to our musical historian, but also makes us acquainted with an English eighteenth century amateur and votary of the Fiddle of singular ability and rare humility:-- "COLCHESTER, _February_ 15, 1791. "To DR. BURNEY,-- "... And now, my dear friend, let's draw our stools together, and have some fun. Is it possible we can help talking of Haydn first? How do you like him? What does he say? What does he do? What does he play upon? How does he play?... The papers say he has been bowed to by whole orchestras when he has appeared at the play-houses. Is he about anything in the way of composition? Come, come! I'll pester you no more with interrogations; but trust to your generosity to gratify my ardent curiosity in your own way. I have just--and I am ashamed to say but just--sent for his 'Stabat Mater.' Fisin[10] told me some quartetts had, not long ago, been published by him. He has written so much that I cannot help fearing he will soon have written himself dry. If the resources of any human composer could be inexhaustible, I should suppose Haydn's would; but as, after all, he is but mortal, I am afraid he must soon get to the bottom of his genius-box. My friend Mr. Tindal is come to settle (for the present at least) in this neighbourhood. He is going to succeed me in the curacy of Fordham. He plays the Fiddle well, the Harpsichord well, the Violoncello well. Now, sir, when I say 'well,' I can't be supposed to mean the wellness that one should predicate of a professor who makes the instrument his study; but that he plays in a very ungentlemanlike manner, exactly in time and tune, with taste, accent, and meaning, and the true sense of what he plays; and, upon the Violoncello, he has execution sufficient to play Boccherini's quintettos, at least what may be called very decently. But ask Fisin, he will tell you about our Fiddling, and vouch for our decency at least. I saw in one of the public prints an insinuation that Haydn, upon his arrival in London, had detected some forgeries, some things published in his name that were not done by him. Is that true? It does not seem very unlikely." [Footnote 10: James Fisin was born in Colchester; was intimate with Dr. Burney, and well known as a Professor of Music.] . . . . . Haydn left Vienna December 15, 1790, and arrived with Salomon in London on New Year's Day, 1791. The Rev. Thomas Twining's interrogations addressed to Dr. Burney respecting him were therefore made but a few weeks after Haydn's first arrival in England. Between the months of January and May much had been seen and heard of Haydn, information of which Dr. Burney gave to his friend, as seen in the following letter:-- "COLCHESTER, _May_ 4, 1791. "To DR. BURNEY,-- "How good it was of you to gratify me with another canto of the 'Haydniad'! It is all most interesting to me. I don't know anything--any musical thing--that would delight me so much as to meet him in a snug quartett party, and hear his manner of playing his own music. If you can bring about such a thing while I am in town, either at Chelsea, or at Mr. Burney's, or at Mr. Salomon's, or I care not where--if it were even in the Black Hole at Calcutta (if it is a good hole for music)--I say, if by hook or crook you could manage such a thing, you should be my Magnus Apollo for the rest of your life. I mention Salomon because we are a little acquainted. He has twice asked me to call upon him, and I certainly will do it when I come to town. I want to hear more of his playing; and I seem, from the little I have seen of him, to like the man. I know not how it is, but I really receive more musical pleasure from such private _cameranious_ Fiddlings and singings, and keyed instrument playings, than from all the _appret_ of public and crowded performances. "I have lately had a sort of Fiddle mania upon me, brought on by trying and comparing different Stainers and Cremonas, &c. I believe I have got possession of a sweet Stradivari, which I play upon with much more pleasure than my Stainer, partly because the tone is sweeter, mellower, rounder, and partly because the stop is longer. My Stainer is undersized, and on that account less valuable, though the tone is as bright, piercing, and full, as of any Stainer I ever heard. Yet, when I take it up after the Stradivari it sets my teeth on edge. The tone comes out plump, all at once. There is a comfortable reserve of tone in the Stradivari, and it bears pressure; and you may draw upon it for almost as much tone as you please. I think I shall bring it to town with me, and then you shall hear it. 'Tis a battered, shattered, cracky, resinous old blackguard; but if every bow that ever crossed its strings from its birth had been sugared instead of resined, more sweetness could not come out of its belly. Addio, and ever pardon my sins of infirmity. "Yours truly, "T. T." GAINSBOROUGH AS A MUSICIAN. William Jackson, organist of Exeter Cathedral, was intimate with Gainsborough, and besides being a thorough musician, painted with ability. He was also the author of many essays. In one of these he makes us acquainted with the character of Gainsborough's musical abilities. He says, "In the early part of my life I became acquainted with Thomas Gainsborough, the painter, and as his character was perhaps better known to me than to any other person, I will endeavour to divest myself of every partiality, and speak of him as he really was. Gainsborough's profession was painting, and music was his amusement--yet, there were times when music seemed to be his employment, and painting his diversion. "When I first knew him he lived at Bath, where Giardini had been exhibiting his then unrivalled powers on the Violin. His excellent performance made Gainsborough enamoured of that instrument; and conceiving, like the servant-maid in the _Spectator_, that the music lay in the Fiddle, he was frantic until he possessed the very instrument which had given him so much pleasure--but seemed much surprised that the music of it remained behind with Giardini. He had scarcely recovered this shock (for it was a great one to _him_) when he heard Abel on the Viol da Gamba. The Violin was hung on the willow; Abel's Viol da Gamba was purchased, and the house resounded with melodious thirds and fifths from 'morn to dewy eve!' Many an Adagio and many a Minuet were begun, but none completed; this was wonderful, as it was Abel's _own_ instrument, and, therefore, _ought_ to have produced Abel's own music! "Fortunately my friend's passion had now a fresh object--Fischer's Hautboy[11]--but I do not recollect that he deprived Fischer of his instrument; and though he procured a Hautboy, I never heard him make the least attempt on it. The next time I saw Gainsborough it was in the character of King David. He had heard a Harper at Bath--the performer was soon Harpless--and now Fischer, Abel, and Giardini were all forgotten--there was nothing like chords and arpeggios! He really stuck to the Harp long enough to play several airs with variations, and would nearly have exhausted all the pieces usually performed on an instrument incapable of modulation (this was not a pedal Harp), when another visit from Abel brought him back to the Viol da Gamba. He now saw the imperfection of sudden sounds that instantly die away--if you wanted staccato, it was to be had by a proper management of the bow, and you might also have notes as long as you please. The Viol da Gamba is the only instrument, and Abel the prince of musicians! This, and occasionally a little flirtation with the Fiddle, continued some years; when, as ill-luck would have it, he heard Crosdill, but by some irregularity of conduct he neither took up nor bought the Violoncello. All his passion for the Bass was vented in descriptions of Crosdill's tone and bowing." [Footnote 11: Fischer was a celebrated Oboe-player. He made his first appearance in London in 1768. Gainsborough painted two portraits of him, one of which is at Hampton Court.] Gainsborough's fondness for fresh instruments is alluded to by Philip Thicknesse, who says that during his residence at Bath, Gainsborough offered him one hundred guineas for a Viol da Gamba, dated 1612. His offer was declined, but it was ultimately agreed that he should paint a full-length portrait of Mr. Thicknesse for the Viol da Gamba. Gainsborough was delighted with the arrangement, and said "Keep me hungry; keep me hungry! and do not send the instrument until I have finished the picture." The Viol da Gamba was, however, sent the next morning, and the same day the artist stretched a canvas. He received a sitting, finished the head, rubbed in the dead colouring, &c., and then it was laid aside--no more was said of it or done to it, and he eventually returned the Viol da Gamba. Jackson tells us that Gainsborough "disliked singing, particularly in parts. He detested reading; but was so like Sterne in his letters, that, if it were not for an originality that could be copied from no one, it might be supposed that he had formed his style upon a close imitation of that author. He had as much pleasure in looking at a Violin as in hearing it. I have seen him for many minutes surveying, in silence, the perfections of an instrument, from the just proportion of the model and beauty of workmanship. His conversation was sprightly; his favourite subjects were music and painting, which he treated in a manner peculiarly his own. He died with this expression--'We are all going to heaven, and Vandyke is of the party.'" GARRICK AND CERVETTO. Cervetto, the famous Violoncello-player, occupied the post of principal Violoncello at Drury Lane for many years. His fame as a performer was almost matched by the celebrity of his nasal organ, the tuberosity of which often caused the audience in the gallery to exclaim, "Play up, Nosey!" In Dibdin's "Musical Tour," 1788, we are told that "When Garrick returned from Italy, he prepared an address to the audience, which he delivered previous to the play he first appeared in. When he came upon the stage he was welcomed with three loud plaudits, each finishing with a huzza. As soon as this unprecedented applause had subsided, he used every art, of which he was so completely master, to lull the tumult into a profound silence; and just as all was hushed as death, and anxious expectation sat on every face, old Cervetto, who was better known by the name of 'Nosey,' anticipated the very first line of the address by--aw----a tremendous yawn. A convulsion of laughter ensued, and it was some minutes before the wished-for silence could be again restored. That, however, obtained, Garrick delivered his address in that happy, irresistible manner in which he was always sure to captivate his audience; and he retired with applause, such as was never better given, nor ever more deserved. But the matter did not rest here; the moment he came off the stage, he flew like lightning to the music-room, where he encountered Cervetto, and began to abuse him vociferously. 'Wha--why--you old scoundrel. You must be the most----' At length poor Cervetto said, 'Oh, Mr. Garrick! vat is the matter--vat I haf do? Oh! vat is it?' 'The matter! Why you senseless idiot--with no more brains than your Bass-Viol--just at the--a--very moment I had played with the audience--tickled them like a trout, and brought them to the most accommodating silence--so pat to my purpose--so perfect--that it was, as one may say, a companion for Milton's visible darkness.' 'Indeed, Mr. Garrick, it vas no darkness.' 'Darkness! stupid fool--but how should a man of my reading make himself understood by--a---- Answer me--was not the house very still?' 'Yes, sir, indeed--still as a mouse.' 'Well, then, just at that very moment did you not--with your jaws extended wide enough to swallow a sixpenny loaf--yawn?' 'Sare, Mr. Garrick--only if you please hear me von vord. It is alvay the vay--it is, indeed, Mr. Garrick--alvay the vay I go ven I haf the greatest _rapture_, Mr. Garrick.' The little great man's anger instantly cooled. The readiness of this Italian flattery operated exactly contrary to the last line of an epigram--the honey was tasted, and the sting forgot." THE KING AND THE PLAYER. George the Third was frequently at Weymouth, and often strolled about the town unattended. On the day of Elliston's benefit (at which His Majesty had expressed his intention of being present) he had been enjoying one of his afternoon wanderings, when a shower of rain came on. Happening to be passing the theatre door, in he went. Finding no one about, he entered the Royal box, and seated himself in his chair. The dim daylight of the theatre and slight fatigue occasioned by his walk, induced drowsiness: His Majesty, in fact, fell into a doze, which ultimately resolved itself into a sound sleep. In the meantime Lord Townsend met Elliston, of whom he inquired if he had seen the King, as His Majesty had not been at the palace since his three o'clock dinner, it being then nearly five. Elliston being unable to give his lordship any information, Lord Townsend sought His Majesty in another direction, and the comedian made his way to the theatre, in order to superintend the necessary arrangements for the reception of his Royal patrons. Upon reaching the theatre, Elliston went at once to the King's box, and seeing a man fast asleep in His Majesty's chair, was about recalling him to his senses somewhat roughly, when, happily, he discovered who it was that had so unexpectedly taken possession of the Royal chair. What was to be done? Elliston could not presume to wake His Majesty--to approach him--speak to him--touch him--impossible! and yet something was necessary to be done, as it was time to light the theatre, and, what was of still more importance, to relieve the anxiety of the Queen and family. Elliston hit on the following expedient: Taking up a Violin from the orchestra he stepped into the pit, and placing himself beneath his exalted guest, struck up _dolcemente_-- [Illustration: God save our no-ble King! Long live our gra-cious King!] The expedient produced the desired effect. The sleeper was loosened from the spell which bound him. Awakened, His Majesty stared at the comedian full in the face, ejaculated, "Hey, hey, hey!--what, what--oh, yes! I see--Elliston--ha, ha! Rain came on--took a seat--took a nap. What's o'clock?" "Nearly six, your Majesty." "Say I'm here. Stay, stay! This wig won't do--eh, eh! Don't keep the people waiting--light up; light up; let them in--fast asleep. Play well to-night, Elliston." The theatre was illuminated; messengers were despatched to the Royal party, which, having arrived in due course, Elliston quitted the side of the affable Monarch, and prepared himself for his part in the performance. SIR WALTER SCOTT ON MUSIC AND FIDDLES. "I do not know and cannot utter," said Sir Walter, "a note of music; and complicated harmony seems to me a babble of confused, though pleasing sounds; yet simple melodies, especially if connected with words and ideas, have as much effect on me as on most people. I cannot bear a voice that has no more life in it than a pianoforte or bugle-horn. There is in almost all the fine arts a something of soul and spirit, which, like the vital principle in man, defies the research of the most critical anatomist. You feel where it is not, yet you cannot describe what it is you want." Sir Joshua, or some other great painter, was looking at a picture on which much pains had been bestowed. "Why--yes," he said, in a hesitating manner; "it is very clever--very well done. Can't find fault, but it wants something--it wants--it wants--d--n me, it wants that!" throwing his hand over his head, and snapping his fingers. In talking of his ignorance of music, Scott said he had once been employed in a case where a purchaser of a Fiddle had been imposed on as to its value. He found it necessary to prepare himself by reading all about Fiddles in the encyclopaedias, &c., and having got the names of Stradivari, Amati, &c., glibly on his tongue, got swimmingly through his case. Not long after this, dining at the Duke of Hamilton's, he found himself left alone after dinner with the Duke, who had but two subjects he could talk of--hunting and music. Having exhausted hunting, Scott thought he would bring forward his lately acquired learning in Fiddles, upon which the Duke grew quite animated, and immediately whispered some orders to the butler, in consequence of which there soon entered the room about half-a-dozen tall servants, all in red, each bearing a Fiddle case, and Scott found his knowledge brought to no less a test than that of telling by the tones of each Fiddle, as the Duke played it, by what artist it was made. "By guessing and management," said he, "I got on pretty well, till we were, to my great relief, summoned to coffee."[12] [Footnote 12: Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott."] I have frequently heard of the Duke's passion for Violins, and also that he had a great number of them at Hamilton Palace. Among these instruments there appears to have been a singularly perfect Tenor by the brothers Amati. Signor Piatti has often spoken to me of having seen this instrument several years since in the possession of the family. The Hamilton collection of Fiddles was doubtless dispersed long before the rare MSS., the Beckford Library, the inlaid cabinets, and other treasures which served to make Hamilton Palace renowned throughout the world of art and letters. Returning to the subject of Sir Walter Scott's references to music, it will be seen that his barristers possess among their gentlemanly embellishments a knowledge of stringed instruments. Who can forget that the young Templar, Master Lowestoffe ("Fortunes of Nigel," chap. xvi. 138) "performed sundry tunes on the Fiddle and French Horn" in Alsatia; and that Counsellor Pleydell, on the eventful night, in "Guy Mannering" (chap. xlix. 255), being a "member of the gentlemen's concert in Edinburgh," was performing some of Scarlatti's sonatas with great brilliancy upon the Violoncello to Julia's accompaniment upon the harpsichord? A CINDERELLA VIOLONCELLO. A somewhat curious change in the ownership of a Violoncello occurred many years since. My father (Mr. John Hart) was walking along Oxford Street, when he heard the sounds of a Violoncello, a Violin, and a Cornet, which were being played in a side street. His curiosity being excited, he became one of the group of listeners. The appearance of the Violoncello greatly pleased him; it was covered with a thick coat of resin and dirt, but its author was clearly defined nevertheless. When the players had concluded their performance, Mr. Hart asked the wandering Violoncellist if he was disposed to sell his instrument. "I have no objection, if I can get enough to buy another and something over," was the answer. The terms not being insurmountable, a bargain was struck, and the dealer in Fiddles walked away, taking his newly-acquired purchase under his arm. The itinerant trio, having become a duet, gave up work for that day. Reaching home with his charge, Mr. Hart was in the act of removing the accumulated dirt of many a hard day's work from the Violoncello, when Robert Lindley entered, and asked what might be the parentage of the instrument about which so much pains were being taken. "A Forster," was the reply; and at the same time the circumstances of the purchase were related. Lindley was much amused, and expressed a wish to possess the rescued instrument, though it had been much injured. The price was agreed upon, and the Violoncello thus passed from the most humble to the most exalted player in _one_ day. A STOLEN "STRAD." It has often been remarked that to steal a valuable Violin is as hazardous as to steal a child; its identity is equally impregnable, in fact, cannot be disguised, save at the price of entire demolition. To use a paradox, Violins, like people, are all alike, yet none are alike. The indelible personality of the best Violins has been a powerful agent in the cause of morality, and has deterred many from attempting to steal them. We have, however, instances of undiscovered robberies of valuable instruments, and notably that of the fine Stradivari which belonged to a well-known amateur, an attache at the British Embassy at St. Petersburg. The Violin in question was numbered with the Plowden collection. I disposed of it to the amateur above mentioned in 1868; it was a magnificent Violin, date 1709, in the highest state of preservation. In the year 1869 the owner of it was appointed to the Embassy at St. Petersburg, and removed thither. He was a passionate lover of the Violin, and an excellent player. One evening he was playing at a musical party. After he had finished he placed his "Strad" in its case as usual, which he closed, without locking it. The next day he was amusing himself with a parrot, which bit him on the lip; the wound appeared very unimportant, but exposure to the cold brought on malignant abscess, and he sank and died. In due course his representatives arrived in St. Petersburg, and took charge of his property, which was brought to England. Some twelve months afterwards a relative (Mr. Andrew Fountaine, of Narford), who took much interest in valuable Violins, was visiting the family of the deceased gentleman and asked to be allowed to see the Stradivari, 1709. The case was sent for and duly opened. When the Violin was handed to the visitor he remarked there must be some mistake, and suggested that the wrong case had been brought, the instrument he held having no resemblance whatever to the Stradivari, and not being worth a sovereign. Inquiries were set on foot, and it was satisfactorily proved that the case had never been opened since it had been brought to England; neither had it left the custody of the late owner's nearest relative, who had kept it secured in a chest. The next day after the occurrence of the event related above, I was communicated with, and asked if I could recognise the Stradivari in question. It is unnecessary to record my answer. I might, with an equivalent amount of reason, have been asked if I should know my own child. The double case was formally opened, and the Violin described above was taken out. "Is that the Stradivari?" I scarcely knew for the moment whether my interrogator was in earnest, so ridiculous was the question. It remains only to be said that the Russian authorities were memorialised and furnished by me with a full description of the instrument; but to this moment its whereabouts has never been discovered. THE MISSING SCROLL. It has often happened that portions of valuable instruments, detached from the original whole, have been once more recovered and reinstated in their proper place. The following is an amusing instance of this. A well-known amateur, belonging to the generation now fast passing away, was the fortunate possessor of a Stradivari Violin, which he had occasion to take to the Fiddle doctor for an operation quite unknown to the students of the Royal College of Surgeons, but well understood by the members of the fraternity to which I have the honour to belong, namely, _decapitation_. This, in the Fiddle language, means the removal of the old neck, and the splicing of a brand-new one in its place. It is an operation wholly unattended with the horrors of human surgery. Again and again a time was appointed for the completion of this delicate insertion, but in vain--it was a case of hope deferred. The owner of the Stradivari becoming wearied with this state of things, determined to carry off his cherished instrument in its dismembered condition. Placing the several portions in paper, he left the Fiddle doctor's establishment, considerably annoyed and excited. Upon reaching his home his recent ebullition of temper had entirely passed away, and he calmly set himself to open the parcel containing his dissected "Strad," when, to his utter dismay, he failed to find its scroll. The anguish he suffered may be readily conceived by the lover of Fiddles. Away he started in search of his Fiddle's head, dead to all around him but the sense of his loss; he demanded of every one he met whether they had by chance picked up the head of a Fiddle. The answers were all in the negative; and many were the looks of astonishment caused by the strange nature of the question and the bewildered appearance of the questioner. At length he arrived at the house of the Fiddle doctor, whose want of punctuality had brought about the misfortune. Here was his forlorn hope! He might possibly have forgotten to put the scroll into the parcel. His doubts were soon at rest; the scroll had been taken with the other parts of the instrument. Completely overcome with sorrow and vexation, he knew not how to endeavour to recover his loss. He ultimately decided to offer a reward of five pounds and to await the result as contentedly as he could. A few hours after the dejected owner of the Violin had left the shop of the Fiddle doctor, an old woman, the keeper of an apple stall in the neighbourhood, entered and offered for sale a Fiddle-head. The healer of Violins, taking it into his hands, was agreeably astonished to recognise in it the missing headpiece, and eagerly demanded of the seller whence she had obtained it, and what might be its price. "Picked it up in the gutter," she answered; and two shillings was the modest value she set upon her find. Without a moment's hesitation the money was handed to the vendor of Ribston pippins, and away she trudged in high glee at the result of her good luck. The Fiddle AEsculapius, equally gleeful at the course of events, resolved to avail himself of the opportunity afforded him of gratifying a little harmless revenge upon the fidgety amateur's haste in removing the "Strad" before the alterations had been completed. He therefore determined to keep the fact of the discovery to himself for a short time. Advertisements multiplied, and the reward rapidly rose to twenty guineas. Having satisfied his revengeful feelings, the repairer duly made known the discovery of the missing scroll, to the intense gratification of its owner. Finally, the repairer refused to accept any portion of the reward upon one condition, viz., that he was allowed to complete his work--a condition readily conceded. ANOTHER WANDERING SCROLL. Among the collection of valuable Violins belonging to the late Mr. James Goding, was a Stradivari Violin, dated 1710, which had been deprived of its original scroll, and bore a supposititious figure-head by David Tecchler, owing to a piece of vandalism perpetrated by an eccentric amateur. The original scroll had found its way to an Italian Violin of some merit, the value of which was considerably enhanced by the newly-acquired headpiece, which gave to the whole instrument an air of importance to which it could lay no claim till it carried on its shoulders a head belonging to the aristocracy of Fiddles. During a period of about twenty years this mongrel Fiddle became the property of as many owners, and ultimately fell into my hands. Leaving this instrument, we will follow the history of the Stradivari, date 1710. At the dispersion of Mr. Goding's collection by Messrs. Christie and Manson, in the year 1857, a well-known amateur purchased the Violin for the sum of seventy pounds, the loss of its scroll preventing the realisation of a higher figure. Sixteen years after this event the purchaser applied to me for a Stradivari scroll, that he might make his instrument complete. The mongrel Violin described above being in my possession, decapitation was duly performed, and the Stradivari received its head again. Here was a fortuitous course of circumstances! This exchange of heads took place without my being at all aware that the "Strad" scroll had returned to its original body; but on my mentioning the circumstance to my father, he informed me, to my astonishment and delight, that if the head of the mongrel Fiddle had been placed on the Stradivari, date 1710, from the Goding collection, it was now, as the effect of recent transmigration, on its own legitimate body. A MONTAGNANA INSTRUMENT SHOT THROUGH THE BODY IN THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. An enthusiastic amateur was playing the Violin in a house in one of the leading thoroughfares in Paris at the outbreak of the Revolution in 1848. His ardour was so great that the cannonading failed to interrupt him in his pleasurable pursuit; he fiddled on, regardless of all about him, as Nero is said to have done when his capital was in flames, and even left the window of his apartment open. Presently a whizzing noise, terminating in a thud above his head, arrested his attention. Upon his looking up he saw the mark of a bullet in the ceiling. Aroused to a sense of his danger, he closed the windows. Being about to put his Montagnana into its case, his astonishment may be imagined when he discovered a hole through the upper side, and a corresponding chink in the belly, both as sharply cut as though a centre-bit had done the work. His Violin bore witness to his miraculous escape; the bullet lodged in the ceiling had taken his Montagnana in its course. The instrument referred to in this anecdote has been in my possession more than once. FIDDLE MARKS AND THE CREDULOUS DABBLERS. It is said that a drowning man will clutch at a straw; the truth of the remark applies to the half-informed in Fiddle connoisseurship. It is very amusing to note the pile of nothings that these persons heap up under the name of "guiding points" in relation to Fiddles. I will endeavour to call to mind a few of these. I will begin with those little pegs seen on the backs of Violins near the button, and at the bottom; the position of these airy nothings without habitation or name "is deemed indisputable evidence of certain makers' handicraft." One is supposed to have put his pegs to the right, another to the left; another used three, four, and so on. I have frequently heard this remark--"Oh, it cannot be a Stradivari, because the pegs are wrong!" The purfling also forms an important item in the collection of landmarks; certain makers are supposed to have invariably used one kind of purfling, no variation being allowed for width or material adopted. Original instruments are pronounced spurious and spurious original by this test. All Fiddles purfled with whalebone are dubbed "Jacobs," and no other maker is credited with using such purfling. The back of a Violin is another very important item with these individuals. Particular makers are supposed to have only made whole backs, others double backs; others again are thought to be known only by the markings of the wood. There is another crotchet to be mentioned: some will tell you they will inform you who made your Violin by taking the belly off, and examining the shape of the blocks and linings. Rest assured if the maker cannot be seen outside, he will never reveal himself in the _inner consciousness_ of a Fiddle. Measurement is another certain guiding point with these dabblers; the measuring tape is produced and the instrument condemned if it does not tally with their erroneous theory. "GUARNERI" AT A DISCOUNT. With what tenacity do persons often cling to the fond belief that undoubted Raffaeles, Cinque Cento bronzes, dainty bits of Josiah Wedgwood's ware, and old Cremonas, are exposed for sale in the windows of dealers in unredeemed pledges, brokers' shops, and divers other emporiums! It is the firm conviction of these amiable persons that scores of gems unknown are awaiting in such cosy lurking-places the recognition of the educated eye for their immediate deliverance to the light of day. The quasi bric-a-brac portion of the general dealer's stock is dexterously arrayed in his window, and not allowed to take up a prominent position among the wares displayed. To expose treasures would be a glaring act of indiscretion, inasmuch as it would tend to the belief that the proprietor was perfectly cognisant of the value of his goods, whereas he is imagined by the hypothesis to be profoundly ignorant on the subject. Pictures, bronzes, china, and Fiddles, with their extremely modest prices attached, lie half hidden behind a mountain of goods of a diametrically opposite nature. There they may rest for days, nay, weeks, before the individual with the educated eye, for the good of all men, detects them. Sooner or later, however, he makes his appearance, and peers into every nook of the window, shading his eyes with his hands. Something within arrests his attention; his nose gets flattened against the glass in his eagerness to get near the object. He enters the establishment, and asks to be allowed to look at an article quite different from the one he has been so intent upon; his object being that the dealer may not awaken to a sense of the coveted article's value by a stranger seeming to be interested in it. After examining the decoy bird, he returns it, and carelessly asks to look at _the_ article. Whatever the value set upon it may be, he tenders exactly the half, the matter being usually settled by what is technically known as "splitting the difference." Delighted with his purchase, he carries it home, and persuades his friends he has got to the blind side of the dealer, and is in possession of the real thing for the fiftieth part of what others give for it. He proceeds to enlighten his friends on the subject, telling them to follow his example, which they invariably do. Scarcely a day passes without my hearing of a Cremona having been secured in the manner I have attempted to describe. My experience, however, teaches me that the whole thing is a delusion, and that the thoroughbred Cremona does not fall away from the companionship of its equals, once in the space of a lifetime, and that when this does happen, the instrument rarely falls to the bargain-hunter. The following exceptional incident will, I hope, not be found wanting in interest as bearing on this theme. A votary of the Violin purchased an old Fiddle for some two or three pounds from a general dealer in musical instruments in his neighbourhood. He was well satisfied with his acquisition; and after subjecting it to a course of judicious regulation, so great were the improvements effected that the vendor regretted having sold it for such a trifling sum, and the more so when it was whispered about that the instrument was a veritable Amati--a report, by the way, very far wide of the mark, as it was simply an old Tyrolean copy. Some little time after the occurrence related, the lover of Violins heard that the same instrument-seller from whom he purchased the imagined Amati, had secured a job lot of some half-dozen old Fiddles, the remnant of an old London music-seller's stock, and that he was offering them for sale. Our hero decided to pay another visit, and judge of the merits of the new wares, with a view to a second investment. Upon presenting himself to the local seller of Violins, he was at once informed that if he selected _any_ instrument from the lot, he must be prepared to pay 10 pounds, the dealer having no intention of again committing his former error in selling a Cremona for some forty shillings. Upon this understanding the visitor proceeded to examine the little stock, which he found in a very disordered condition--bridgeless, stringless, and dusty. Among the whole tribe, however, was a Violin which seemed to elbow its way to the front of the group, and clamour for the attention of which it appeared to deem itself worthy. Unable to resist its seeming appeal, the intending purchaser decided to remove it from the atmosphere of its companions, and begged that he might be permitted to take the importuning Fiddle and string it in order to test its qualities. His request being acceded to, he carried it away. Upon reaching home, he took it from its case, and gently removed the dust of years. The varnish appeared to him as something very different from any he had ever seen before on a Violin; and being an artist by profession, qualities of colours were pretty well understood by him. With the Violin poised on his knee, somewhat after the manner seen in the well-known picture of Stradivari in his workshop, he thus communed with himself: "I have never seen the much-spoken-of Cremonese varnish, but if this instrument has it not, its lustre must indeed be more wondrous than my imagination has painted." After again and again examining the Violin, he retired to rest, but not to sleep. The Fiddle persisted in dodging him whichever way he turned on his couch. At the dawn of day--five o'clock--he was up, with the Fiddle again on his knee, thinking he might have been labouring under some infatuation the night before which the light of day might dispel. Convinced he was under no such delusion, he soon made for the music-seller's establishment, whom he delighted by paying the price demanded for the Violin. It was now time, he felt, to obtain professional advice on the matter; in due course he paid me a visit. Upon his opening the case I was unable to restrain my feelings of surprise, and demanded if he had any idea of the value of the Violin. "None whatever," he answered. Without troubling the reader further, I informed him that his Violin was an undoubted Giuseppe Guarneri, of considerable value. He then recounted the circumstances attending its purchase, with which the reader is familiar. DOMENICO DRAGONETTI--HIS GASPARO DA SALO. Signor Dragonetti succeeded Berini as _primo basso_ in the orchestra of the chapel belonging to the monastery of San Marco, Venice, in his eighteenth year. The procurators of the monastery, wishing to show their high appreciation of his worth, presented the youthful player with a magnificent Contra-Bass, by Gasparo da Salo, which had been made expressly for the chapel orchestra of the convent of St. Peter, by the famous Brescian maker. Upon an eventful night, the inmates of the monastery retired to rest, when they were awakened by deep rumbling and surging sounds. Unable to find repose while these noises rent the air, they decided to visit the chapel; and the nearer they got to it the louder the sounds became. Regarding each other with looks of mingled fear and curiosity, they reached the chapel, opened the door, and there stood the innocent cause of their fright, Domenico Dragonetti, immersed in the performance of some gigantic passage, of a range extending from the nut to the bridge, on his newly-acquired Gasparo. The monks stood regarding the performer in amazement, possibly mistaking him for a second appearance of the original of Tartini's "Sonata del Diavolo," his Satanic Majesty having substituted the Contra-Basso for the Violin. Upon this instrument Dragonetti played at his chief concert engagements, and though frequently importuned to sell it by his numerous admirers, declined to do so; in fact, though for the last few years of his life he gave up public performance, he resolutely refused most tempting offers for his treasure--800 pounds, to use an auctioneer's phrase, "having been offered in two places," and respectfully declined. In his youthful days he decided that his cherished Gasparo should return to the place from whence he obtained it, the Monastery of San Marco, and this wish was accordingly fulfilled by his executors in the year 1846. The occasion was one of much interest; it was felt by Dragonetti's friends and admirers that to consign the instrument upon which he had so often astonished and delighted them with the magic tones he drew from it, to the care of those who possibly knew nothing of its merits, was matter for regret. Being desirous of furnishing the reader with all the information possible relative to Signor Dragonetti's instrument I communicated with Mr. Samuel Appleby, who was his legal adviser, and probably better acquainted with him than any other person in this country. He very kindly sent me the following particulars, which are interesting:-- "BRIGHTON, _July_ 2, 1875. "MY DEAR SIR,-- "Your letter of yesterday needs no apology, as it will afford me pleasure at any time to give you any information in my power respecting the late Signor Dragonetti, having known him well from 1796 to his death. "His celebrated Gasparo da Salo instrument, or Contra-Basso, was left by his will to the Fabbricieri (or churchwardens) for the time being of the Church of St. Mark's, at Venice, to be played upon only on festivals and grand occasions. I was present on one of such festivals, which lasted three days, in July, 1852. I then saw the Basso, which was played on in Orchestra No. 1, there having been two bands for which music had been composed expressly. "In April, 1875, being again in Venice, I inquired from the Verger of St. Mark's if Dragonetti's _Violone_ was in the church, and I could see it. The reply was in the affirmative, but as the Fabbricieri had the care of the instrument, under lock and key, it would be necessary to see them and get their consent for its production. As this would cause me some little trouble, I left Venice without carrying out my intention. "Dragonetti by his will left me his Amati Double-Bass, which is now in this house, and I believe the only one of that make in England, and consequently highly prized by "Yours truly, "SAMUEL APPLEBY. "Mr. Hart." THE BETTS STRADIVARI. The Bibliophile tells us of Caxton, Aldine, and Baskerville editions having been exposed for sale by itinerant booksellers, men who in opening their umbrellas opened their shops. Collectors of pictures, china, and Fiddles, have each their wondrous tales to tell of bygone bargains, which are but the echoes of that of the Bibliophile. It is doubtful, however, were we to search throughout the curiosities of art sales, whether we should discover such a bargain as Mr. Betts secured, when he purchased the magnificent Stradivari which bears his name, for twenty shillings. About half a century since, this instrument was taken to the shop of Messrs. Betts, the well-known English Violin-makers in the old Royal Exchange, and disposed of for the trivial sum above-mentioned. Doubtless its owner believed he was selling a brand-new copy, instead of a "Stradivari" made in 1704, in a state of perfection. Frequently importuned to sell the instrument, Mr. Betts persistently declined, though it is recorded in Sandys and Foster's work on the Violin, that five hundred guineas were tendered more than once, which in those days must have been a tempting offer indeed! Under the will of Mr. Betts it passed to his family, who for years retained possession of it. About the year 1858 it became the property of M. Vuillaume, of Paris, from whom it was purchased by M. Wilmotte, of Antwerp. Several years later it passed to Mr. C. G. Meier, who had waited patiently for years to become its owner. The loving care which this admirer of Cremonese Violins bestowed upon it was such, that he would scarcely permit any person to handle it. From Mr. Meier it passed into my possession in the year 1878, which change of ownership brought forth the following interesting particulars from the pen of the late Charles Reade, the novelist and lover of Fiddles:-- "THE BETTS STRADIVARI. "_To the Editor of the 'Globe.'_ "SIR,--As you have devoted a paragraph to this Violin, which it well deserves, permit me to add a fact which may be interesting to amateurs, and to Mr. George Hart, the late purchaser. M. Vuillaume, who could not speak English, was always assisted in his London purchases by the late John Lott, an excellent workman, and a good judge of old Violins.[13] The day after this particular purchase, Lott came to Vuillaume, by order, to open the Violin. He did so in the sitting-room whilst Vuillaume was dressing. Lott's first words were, 'Why, it has never been opened!' His next, 'Here's the original bass-bar.' Thereupon out went M. Vuillaume, half-dressed, and the pair gloated over a rare sight, a Stradivari Violin, the interior of which was intact from the maker's hands. Mr. Lott described the bass-bar to me. It was very low and very short, and quite unequal to support the tension of the strings at our concert pitch, so that the true tone of this Violin can never have been heard in England before it fell into Vuillaume's hands. I have known this Violin forty years. It is wonderfully preserved. There is no wear on the belly except the chin-mark; in the centre of the back a very little, just enough to give light and shade. The corners appear long for the epoch, but only because they have not been worn down. As far as the work goes, you may know from this instrument how a brand-new Stradivari Violin looked. Eight hundred guineas seems a long price for a dealer to give: but after all, here is a Violin, a picture, and a miracle all in one; and big diamonds increase in number; but these spoils of time are limited for ever now, and, indeed, can only decrease by shipwreck, accident, and the tooth of time.--I am, your obedient servant, "CHARLES READE. "19, ALBERT GATE, _May 9, 1878_." [Footnote 13: The hero of Mr. Read's "Jack of All Trades, a Matter-of-fact Romance."] LEIGH HUNT ON PAGANINI. "'I projected,' says Leigh Hunt, 'a poem to be called "A Day with the Reader." I proposed to invite the reader to breakfast, dine and sup with me, partly at home, and partly at a country inn, to vary the circumstances. It was to be written both gravely and gaily; in an exalted, or in a lowly strain, according to the topics of which it treated. The fragment on Paganini was a part of the exordium:-- "So played of late to every passing thought, With finest change (might I but half as well So write!) the pale magician of the bow," &c. I wished to write in the same manner, because Paganini with his Violin could move both the tears and the laughter of his audience, and (as I have described him doing in the verses) would now give you the notes of birds in trees, and even hens feeding in a farmyard (which was a corner into which I meant to take my companion), and now melt you into grief and pity, or mystify you with witchcraft, or put you into a state of lofty triumph like a conqueror. The phrase of _smiting_ the chord-- "He _smote_; and clinging to the serious chords With godlike ravishment," &c. was no classical commonplace; nor, in respect to impression on the mind, was it exaggeration to say, that from a single chord he would fetch out-- "The voice of quires, and weight Of the built organ." Paganini, the first time I saw and heard him, and the first time he struck a note, seemed literally to _strike_ it--to give it a blow. The house was so crammed, that being among the squeezers in the standing-room at the side of the pit, I happened to catch the first glance of his face through the arm a-kimbo of a man who was perched up before me, which made a kind of frame for it; and there on the stage, in that frame, as through a perspective glass, were the face, bust, and the raised hand of the wonderful musician, with the instrument at his chin, just going to commence, and looking exactly as I have described him. "His hand Loading the air with dumb expectancy Suspended, ere it fell, a nation's breath. He _smote_; and clinging to the serious chords With godlike ravishment, drew forth a breath So deep, so strong, so fervid, thick with love-- Blissful, yet laden as with twenty prayers, That Juno yearned with no diviner soul, To the first burthen of the lips of Jove. Th' exceeding mystery of the loveliness Sadden'd delight; and with his mournful look Dreary and gaunt, hanging his pallid face 'Twixt his dark flowing locks, he almost seemed Too feeble, or, to melancholy eyes, One that has parted with his soul for pride, And in the sable secret lived forlorn." "'To show the depth and identicalness of the impression which he made upon everybody, foreign or native, an Italian who stood near me said to himself, after a sigh, "O Dio!" and this had not been said long when another person, in the same manner, uttered "O Christ!" Musicians pressed forward from behind the scenes to get as close to him as possible; and they could not sleep at night for thinking of him.'"--_Timbs's Anecdote Biography_. THACKERAY ON ORCHESTRAL MUSIC. "I wish I were a poet; you should have a description of all this in verse, and welcome. But if I were a musician! Let us see what we should do as musicians. First, you should hear the distant sound of a bugle, which sound should float away; that is one of the heralds of the morning, flying southward. Then another should issue from the eastern gates; and now the grand _reveille_ should grow, sweep past your ears (like the wind aforesaid), go on, dying as it goes. When, as it dies, my stringed instruments come in. These to the left of the orchestra break into a soft slow movement, the music swaying drowsily from side to side, as it were, with a noise like the rustling of boughs. It must not be much of a noise, however, for my stringed instruments to the right have begun the very song of the morning. The bows tremble upon the strings, like the limbs of a dancer, who, a-tiptoe, prepares to bound into her ecstasy of motion. Away! The song soars into the air as if it had the wings of a kite. Here swooping, there swooping, wheeling upward, falling suddenly, checked, poised for a moment on quivering wings, and again away. It is waltz-time, and you hear the Hours dancing to it. Then the horns. Their melody overflows into the air richly, like honey of Hybla; it wafts down in lazy gusts, like the scent of the thyme from that hill. So my stringed instruments to the left cease rustling; listen a little while; catch the music of those others, and follow it. Now for the rising of the lark! Henceforward it is a chorus, and he is the leader thereof. Heaven and earth agree to follow him. I have a part for the brooks--their notes drop, drop, drop, like his: for the woods--they sob like him. At length, nothing remains but to blow the Hautboys; and just as the chorus arrives at its fulness, they come maundering in. They have a sweet old blundering 'cow song' to themselves--a silly thing, made of the echoes of all pastoral sounds. There's a warbling waggoner in it, and his team jingling their bells. There's a shepherd driving his flock from the fold, bleating; and the lowing of cattle. Down falls the lark like a stone; it is time he looked for grubs. Then the Hautboys go out, gradually; for the waggoner is far on his road to market; sheep cease to bleat and cattle to low, one by one; they are on their grazing ground, and the business of the day is begun. Last of all, the heavenly music sweeps away to waken more westering lands, over the Atlantic and its whitening sails."--"_An Essay without End_." ADDISON ON THE PERSONIFICATION OF THE LEADING INSTRUMENT. In the pages of the _Tatler_ (April, 1710), Addison with much ingenuity and humour personifies certain musical instruments. He says: "I have often imagined to myself that different talents in discourse might be shadowed out after the same manner by different kinds of music; and that the several conversable parts of mankind in this great city might be cast into proper characters and divisions, as they resemble several instruments that are in use among the masters of harmony. Of these, therefore, in their order; and first of the Drum. "Your Drums are the blusterers in conversation, that with a loud laugh, unnatural mirth, and a torrent of noise, domineer in public assemblies; overbear men of sense; stun their companions; and fill the place they are in with a rattling sound, that hath seldom any wit, humour, or good breeding in it. I need not observe that the emptiness of the Drum very much contributes to its noise. "The Lute is a character directly opposite to the Drum, that sounds very finely by itself. A Lute is seldom heard in a company of more than five, whereas a Drum will show itself to advantage in an assembly of five hundred. The Lutenists, therefore, are men of a fine genius, uncommon reflection, great affability, and esteemed chiefly by persons of a good taste, who are the only proper judges of so delightful and soft a melody. "Violins are the lively, forward, importunate wits, that distinguish themselves by the flourishes of imagination, sharpness of repartee, glances of satire, and bear away the upper part in every _consort_. I cannot but observe, that when a man is not disposed to hear music, there is not a more disagreeable sound in harmony than that of a Violin. "There is another musical instrument, which is more frequent in this nation than any other; I mean your Bass-Viol, which grumbles in the bottom of the _consort_, and with a surly masculine sound strengthens the harmony and tempers the sweetness of the several instruments that play along with it. The Bass-Viol is an instrument of a quite different nature to the Trumpet, and may signify men of rough sense and unpolished parts, who do not love to hear themselves talk, but sometimes break out with an agreeable bluntness, unexpected wit, and surly pleasantries, to the no small diversion of their friends and companions. In short, I look upon every sensible, true-born Briton to be naturally a Bass-Viol." WASHINGTON IRVING ON REALISTIC MUSIC AND THE VIOLIN. "_Demi-Semiquaver to Launcelot Langstaff, Esq._ "SIR,--I felt myself hurt and offended by Mr. Evergreen's terrible philippic against modern music in No. 11 of your work, and was under serious apprehension that his strictures might bring the art, which I have the honour to profess, into contempt. So far, sir, from agreeing with Mr. Evergreen in thinking that all modern music is but the mere dregs and drainings of the ancient, I trust before this letter is concluded I shall convince you and him that some of the late professors of this enchanting art have completely distanced the paltry efforts of the ancients; and that I, in particular, have at length brought it almost to absolute perfection. "The Greeks, simple souls, were astonished at the powers of Orpheus, who made the woods and rocks dance to his lyre--of Amphion, who converted crotchets into bricks, and quavers into mortar--and of Arion, who won upon the compassion of the fishes. In the fervency of admiration, their poets fabled that Apollo had lent them his lyre, and inspired them with his own spirit of harmony. What then would they have said had they witnessed the wonderful effects of my skill?--had they heard me, in the compass of a single piece, describe in glowing notes one of the most sublime operations of nature, and not only make inanimate objects dance, but even speak; and not only speak, but speak in strains of exquisite harmony? "I think, sir, I may venture to say there is not a sound in the whole compass of nature which I cannot imitate, and even improve upon;--nay, what I consider the perfection of my art, I have discovered a method of expressing, in the most striking manner, that indefinable, indescribable silence which accompanies the falling of snow." [Our author describes in detail the different movements of a grand piece, which he names the "Breaking up of the ice in the North River," and tells us that the "ice running against Polopay's Island with a terrible crash," is represented by a fierce fellow travelling with his Fiddle-stick over a huge Bass-Viol at the rate of 150 bars a minute, and tearing the music to rags--this being what is called execution.] "Thus, sir, you perceive what wonderful powers of expression have hitherto been locked up in this enchanting art. A whole history is here told without the aid of speech or writing; and provided the hearer is in the least acquainted with music, he cannot mistake a single note. As to the blowing up of the powder-bank, I look upon it as a _chef d'oeuvre_ which I am confident will delight all modern amateurs, who very properly estimate music in proportion to the noise it makes, and delight in thundering cannon and earthquakes. "In my warm anticipations of future improvement, I have sometimes almost convinced myself that music will in time be brought to such a climax of perfection as to supersede the necessity of speech and writing, and every kind of social intercourse be conducted by the Flute and Fiddle. The immense benefits that will result from this improvement, must be plain to every man of the least consideration. In the present unhappy situation of mortals a man has but one way of making himself understood: if he loses his speech he must inevitably be dumb all the rest of his life; but having once learned this new musical language, the loss of speech will be a mere trifle, not worth a moment's uneasiness. This manner of discussing may also, I think, be introduced with great effect into our National Assemblies, where every man, instead of wagging his tongue, should be obliged to flourish a Fiddle-stick; by which means, if he said nothing to the purpose, he would at all events 'discourse most eloquent music,' which is more than can be said of them at present. "But the most important result of this discovery is, that it may be applied to the establishment of that great desideratum in the learned world--a universal language. Wherever this science of music is cultivated, nothing more will be necessary than a knowledge of its alphabet, which, being almost the same everywhere, will amount to a universal medium of communication. A man may thus--with his Violin under his arm, a piece of resin, and a few bundles of catgut--fiddle his way through the world, and never be at a loss to make himself understood.--I am, &c., "DEMI-SEMIQUAVER." SPOHR AND HIS GUARNERI. "Shortly before my leaving Brunswick I had a case made worthy of the splendid Violin I had brought from Russia, viz., a very elegant one; and in order to protect this from injury, I had packed it up in my trunk, between my linen and clothes. I therefore took care that this, which contained my whole estate, should be carefully fastened behind the carriage with cords. But, notwithstanding, I thought it necessary to look out frequently, particularly as the driver told me several trunks had been cut down from behind carriages. As the carriage had no window at the back, this continual looking out was a very troublesome business, and I was therefore very glad when, towards evening, we arrived between the gardens of Gottingen, and I had convinced myself for the last time that the trunk was still in its place. Delighted that I had brought it so far in safety, I remarked to my fellow-traveller: 'My first care shall now be to procure a good strong chain and padlock, for the better security of the trunk.' "In this manner we arrived at the town gate, just as they were lighting the lamps. The carriage drew up before the guard-house. While Beneke gave our names to the sergeant, I anxiously asked one of the soldiers who stood round the carriage, 'Is the trunk still secured?' 'There is no trunk there,' was the reply. With one bound I was out of the carriage, and rushed out through the gate with a drawn hunting-knife. Had I with more reflection listened awhile, I might perhaps have been fortunate enough to hear and overtake the thieves running off by some side-path. But in my blind rage I had far overshot the place where I had last seen the trunk, and only discovered my over-haste when I found myself in the open field. Inconsolable for my loss, I turned back. While my fellow-traveller looked for the inn, I hastened to the police-office and requested that an immediate search might be made in the garden houses outside the gate. To my astonishment and vexation I was informed that the jurisdiction outside the gate belonged to Weende, and that I must address my request there. As Weende was half a league from Gottingen, I was compelled to abandon for that evening all further steps for the recovery of my Guarneri. I passed a sleepless night, in a state of mind such as, in my hitherto fortunate career, had been wholly unknown to me. Had I not lost my splendid Guarneri, the exponent of all the artistic excellence I had till then attained, I could have lightly borne the loss of the rest. On the following morning the police sent to inform me that an empty trunk and a Violin-case had been found in the fields behind the gardens. Full of joy I hastened thither, in the hope that the thieves might have left the Violin in the case, as an object of no value to them; but, unfortunately, it did not prove so. The bow of the Violin, a genuine Tourte, secured in the lid of the case, had remained undiscovered."--_Spohr's Autobiography_. SPOHR AND THE COLLECTOR. When Louis Spohr was in London in 1820, he tells us, in his Autobiography, he received a letter couched in the following terms: "Mr. Spohr is requested to call upon Dr. ---- to-day at four o'clock." "As I did not know the name of the writer," he proceeds to relate, "nor could ascertain from the servant the purpose for which my attendance was requested, I replied, in the same laconic tone, 'At the hour named I am engaged, and cannot come.' The next morning the servant reappeared, bearing a second and more polite note: 'Mr. Spohr is requested to favour Dr. ---- with a visit, and to appoint the hour when it will be convenient for him to call.' The servant had been instructed to offer me the use of his master's carriage, and having in the meantime discovered that the gentleman was a celebrated physician, a patron of music, and a lover of Violins, I drove to his house. A courteous old gentleman with grey hair met me on the stairs. Unfortunately he neither understood French nor German, consequently we were unable to converse together. We stood for a moment somewhat embarrassed, when he took my arm and led me into a large room, on the walls of which hung a great number of Violins. Other Violins had been removed from their cases and placed on the tables. The Doctor gave me a Violin-bow, and pointed to the instruments. I now perceived that he was desirous of having my opinion of the instruments. I, therefore, played upon them, and placed them in order, according to my idea of their merit. When I had selected the six most valuable ones, I played upon them alternately in order to discover the best of the half-dozen. Perceiving that the doctor cast upon one instrument glances especially tender whenever I played upon it, I gladly afforded the good old man pleasure by declaring it to be the best Violin. When I took my hat to leave, the old gentleman, with a kind smile, slipped a five-pound note into my hand. Astonished, I looked at it, and also at the Doctor, not knowing at first what he meant; but suddenly it occurred to me that it was intended as a fee for having examined his Violins. I smilingly shook my head, laid the note on the table, pressed the Doctor's hand, and descended the stairs. Some months later, upon the occasion of my benefit concert, the Doctor procured a ticket, for which he sent a ten-pound note." THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD AND THE VIOLIN. "But the pleasantest part of our fellowship is yet to describe. At a certain period of the night, our entertainer (the renowned Timothy Tickler) knew by the longing looks which I cast to a beloved corner of the dining-room what was wanting. Then with, 'Oh, I beg your pardon, Hogg, I was forgetting,' he would take out a small gold key that hung by a chain of the same precious metal to a particular button-hole, and stalk away as tall as the life, open two splendid Fiddle-cases, and produce their contents, first the one, and then the other; but always keeping the best to himself; I'll never forget with what elated dignity. There was a twist of the lip, and an upward beam of the eye, that were truly sublime. Then down we sat, side by side, and began--at first gently, and with easy motion, like skilful grooms, keeping ourselves up for the final heat, which was slowly but surely approaching. At the end of every tune we took a glass, and still our enthusiastic admiration of the Scottish tunes increased--our energies of execution redoubled, till ultimately it became not only a complete and well-contested race, but a trial of strength, to determine which should drown the other. The only feeling short of ecstasy that came across us in these enraptured moments were caused by hearing the laugh and joke going on with our friends, as if no such thrilling strains had been flowing. But if Tim's eye chanced to fall on them, it instantly retreated upwards again in mild indignation. To his honour be it mentioned, he has left me a legacy of that inestimable Violin, provided that I outlive him. But not for a thousand such would I part with my old friend."--_Altrine Tales_.--_Hogg's Reminiscences of Former Days_. THE FIDDLE TRADE. "There is, for instance, Old Borax, whom those who want to know whereabouts to look for--within the shadow of St. Martin's Church. "Borax makes but little demonstration of his wealth in the dingy hole that serves him for a shop, where a Double-Bass, a couple of Violoncellos, a Tenor or two hanging on the walls, and half-a-dozen Fiddles lying among a random collection of bows, bridges, coils of catgut, packets of purified resin, and tangled horsehair in skeins, serve for the insignia of his profession. But Borax never does business in his shop, which is a dusty desert from one week's end to another. His warehouse is a private sanctum on the first floor, where you will find him in his easy chair reading the morning paper, if he does not happen to be engaged with a client. Go to him for a Fiddle, or carry him a Fiddle for his opinion, and you will hardly fail to acknowledge that you stand in the presence of a first-rate judge. The truth is, that Fiddles of all nations, disguised and sophisticated as they may be to deceive common observers, are naked and self-confessed in his hands. Dust, dirt, varnish, and bees'-wax are thrown away upon him; he knows the work of every man, of note or of no note, whether English, French, Dutch, German, Spaniard, or Italian, who ever sent a Fiddle into the market, for the last two hundred years; and he will tell you who is the fabricator of your treasure, and the rank he holds in the Fiddle-making world, with the utmost readiness and urbanity--on payment of his fee of one guinea. "Borax is the pink of politeness, though a bit of a martinet after an ancient and punctilious model. If you go to select a Fiddle from his stock, you may escape a lecture of a quarter of an hour by _calling_ it a Fiddle, and not a Violin, which is a word he detests, and is apt to excite his wrath. He is never in a hurry to sell, and will by no means allow you to conclude a bargain until he has put you in complete possession of the virtues, and failings, if it have any, of the instrument for which you are to pay a round sum. As his Fiddles lie packed in sarcophagi, like mummies in an Egyptian catacomb, your choice is not perplexed by any _embarras de richesses_; you see but one masterpiece at a time, and Borax will take care that you _do_ see that, and know all about it, before he shows you another. First unlocking the case, he draws the instrument tenderly from its bed, grasps it in the true critical style with the fingers and thumbs of both hands a little above the bridge, turning the scroll towards you. Now and then he twangs, with the thumb of his left hand, the third or fourth string, by way of emphasis to the observations which he feels bound to make--instinctively avoiding, however, that part of the strings subject to the action of the bow. Giving you the name of the maker, he proceeds to enlighten you on the peculiar characteristics of his work; then he will dilate upon the remarkable features of the specimen he holds in his hand--its build, its model, the closeness and regularity of the grain of the wood of which the belly was fashioned: the neatness, or, wanting that, the original style of the purfling--the exquisite mottling of the back, which is wrought, he tells you, 'by the cunning hand of nature in the primal growth of the tree'--_twang_. Then he will break out in placid exclamations of delight upon the gracefulness of the swell--_twang_--and the noble rise in the centre--_twang_--and make you pass your hand over it to convince yourself; after which, he carefully wipes it down with a silk handkerchief. This process superinduces another favourite theme of eulogium--namely, the unparalleled hue and tone (of colour) imparted by the old Italian varnish--a hue, he is sure to inform you, which it is impossible to imitate by any modern nostrums--_twang_. Then he reverts to the subject of a Fiddle's indispensables and fittings; discourses learnedly on the carving of scrolls, and the absurd substitution, by some of the German makers, of lions' heads in lieu of them; hinting, by the way, that said makers are asses, and that their instruments bray when they should speak--_twang_. Then touching briefly on the pegs, which he prefers unornamented, he will hang lingeringly upon the neck, pronounce authoritatively upon the right degree of elevation of the finger-board, and the effects of its due adjustment upon the vibration of the whole body-harmonic, and, consequently, upon the tone. Then, jumping over the bridge, he will animadvert on the tail-piece; after which, entering at the _f_-holes--not without a fervent encomium upon their graceful drawing and neatness of cut--_twang_--he will introduce you to the _arcanum mysterii_, the interior of the marvellous fabric--point out to you, as plainly as though you were gifted with clairvoyance, the position and adaptation of the various linings, the bearings of the bass-bar, that essential adjunct to quality of tone--_twang_--and the proper position of the sound-post. Lastly, he will show you, by means of a small hand-mirror throwing a gleam of light into its entrails, the identical autograph of the immortal maker--Albani, Guarneri, or Amati, as the case may happen--with the date printed in the lean old type and now scarcely visible through the dust of a couple of centuries, '_Amati_ Cremonae fecit 1645,' followed by a manuscript signature in faded ink, which you must take for granted. "Borax has but one price; and if you do not choose to pay it, you must do without the article. The old fellow is a true believer, and is accounted the first judge in Europe; Fiddles travel to him from all parts of the Continent for his opinion, bringing their fees with them; and for every instrument he sells, it is likely he pronounces judgment upon a hundred. It is rumoured that the greatest masterpieces in being are in his possession. "A dealer of a different stamp is Michael Schnapps, well known in the trade, and the profession too, as a ravenous Fiddle-ogre, who buys and sells everything that bears the Fiddle shape, from a Double-Bass to a dancing-master's pocketable Kit. His house is one vast warehouse, with Fiddles on the walls, Fiddles on the staircases, and Fiddles hanging like stalactites from the ceilings. To him the tyros resort when they first begin to scrape; he will set them up for ten shillings, and swop them up afterwards, step by step, to ten or twenty guineas, and to ten times that amount if they are rich enough and green enough to continue the experiment. Schnapps imports Fiddles in the rough, under the designation of toys, most of which are the production of his peasant-countrymen bordering on the Black Forest; and with these he supplies the English provinces and the London toy and stationers' shops. He is, further, a master of the Fiddle-making craft himself, and so consummate an adept in repairing that nothing short of consuming fire can defeat his art. When Pinker, of Norwich, had his Cremona smashed all to atoms in a railway collision, Schnapps rushed down to the scene of the accident, bought the lot of splintered fragments for a couple of pounds, and in a fortnight had restored the magnificent Stradivari to its original integrity, and cleared 150 guineas by its sale. But Schnapps is a humbug at bottom--an everlasting copyist and manufacturer of dead masters, Italian, German, and English. He has sold more Amatis in his time than Amati himself ever made. He knows the secret of the old varnish; he has hidden stores of old wood--planks of cherry-tree and mountain-ash centuries old, and worm-eaten sounding-boards of defunct Harpsichords, and reserves of the close-grained pine hoarded for ages. He has a miniature printing press, and a fount of the lean-faced, long-forgotten type, and a stock of the old ribbed paper torn from the fly-leaves of antique folios; and, of course, he has always on hand a collection of the most wonderful instruments at the most wonderful prices, for the professional man or the connoisseur. "'You vant to py a Pfeedel,' says Schnapps. 'I sall sell you de pest--dat ish, de pest for the mowny. Vat you sall gif for him?' "'Well, I can go as far as ten guineas,' says the customer. "'Ten kinnis is good for von goot Pfeedel; bote besser is tventy, tirty, feefty kinnis, or von hunder, look you; bote ten kinnis is goot--you sall see.' "Schnapps is all simplicity and candour in his dealings. The probability is, however, that his ten-guinea Fiddle would be fairly purchased at five, and that you might have been treated to the same article had you named thirty or forty guineas instead of ten. "I once asked Schnapps if he knew wherein lay the excellence of the old Italian instruments. "'Mein Gott!--if I don't, who de teifil does?' "Then he went on to inform me that it did not lie in any peculiarity in the model, though there was something in that; nor in the wood of the back, though there was something in that; nor in the fine and regular grain of the pine which formed the belly, though there was something in that; nor in the position of the grain running precisely parallel with the strings, though there was something in that; nor in the sides, nor in the finger-board, nor in the linings, nor in the bridge, nor in the strings, nor in the waist, though there was something in all of them; nor yet in the putting together, though there was much in that. "'Where does it lie, then, Mr. Schnapps?' "'Ah, der henker! hang if I know.' "'Has age much to do with it, think you?' "'Not mosche. Dere is pad Pfeedels two hunder years ole as vell as goot vons; and dere is goot Pfeedels of pad models, vitch is made fery pad, and pad Pfeedels of de fery pest models, and peautiful made as you sall vish to see.' "This is the sum total of the information to be got out of Schnapps on that mysterious subject. On other matters he can pronounce with greater exactness. He knows every Cremona in private or professional hands in the whole kingdom; and where the owner bought it, if he did buy it; and what he gave for it, or from whom he inherited it, if it came to him as heir-loom. Of those of them which have passed through his hands, he has got fac-similes taken in plaster, which serve as exemplars for his own manufactures. Upon the death of the owner of one of these rarities, Schnapps takes care to learn particulars; and if the effects of the deceased come under the hammer, he starts off to the sale, however distant, where, unless some of his metropolitan rivals in trade have likewise caught the scent, he has the bidding all his own way, and carries off the prize. "The inundation of German Fiddles, which may be bought new for a few shillings, has swamped English makers of cheap instruments, of which there are by this time five times as many in the market as there is any occasion for. Hence it is that Fiddles meet us everywhere; they cumber the toy-shop; they house with the furniture dealer; they swarm by thousands in the pawnbrokers' stores, and block out the light from his windows; they hang on the tobacconists' walls; they are raffled at public-houses; and they form an item in every auctioneer's catalogue. "Meanwhile the multiplication of rubbish only enhances the value of gold; and a Fiddle worthy of an applauding verdict from old Borax is more difficult of acquisition than ever. So I shall keep my Cremona." THE PRINCE AND THE FUGAL VORTEX. A Royal amateur and British Admiral, a lover of the Violin and patron of music, happened whilst at Malta to be leading Mozart's charming Quartet in G major-- [Illustration: _Allegro vivace assai_.] The opening movement, together with the Minuet, Trio, and Andante having been rendered with pleasure and satisfaction, the Finale was entered upon with due determination. Its fugal subject-- [Illustration: _Molto Allegro_.] was well under way, and speedily in full sail. Ere long an evident indecision of purpose manifested itself, the motive or subject failing to elicit other than dubious answers to its calls; it was emphasised with loudness, not without signs of impatience, but to no purpose; all became hopelessly involved and incoherent, until at length, like the ice described by the "Ancient Mariner"-- "The _fugue_ was here, the _fugue_ was there, The _fugue_ was all around; It cracked and growled and roared and howled Like noises in a swound." The second Violin, overcome by the surging counterpoint, ceased playing, and with the adroitness of a Raleigh turned to the Prince and said, "Pardon me, your Royal Highness, I fear we have been carried away by the vortex of the melody." The execution of chamber compositions belonging to the higher walks of counterpoint is frequently disappointing, but seldom or never is the failure so gracefully and agreeably accounted for. SALE OF CREMONESE INSTRUMENTS AT MILAN, AT THE END OF THE LAST CENTURY. (_Extracted from the "Gazetta di Firenze," 1790_.) The following instruments were offered for sale at Milan, by Signor Francesco Albinoni, in March, 1790:-- 1. Violin by Antonio and Girolamo Amati, Cremona 1616 2. " " Niccolo Amati . . . . . . . . . . . 1647 3. " " ditto . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1667 4. " " Andrea Guarneri . . . . . . . . . . 1657 5. " " Giuseppe Guarneri, figlio . . . . . 1705 6. " " Antonio Stradivari . . . . . . . . 1708 7. " " ditto . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1719 8. " " Giovanni Ruggeri . . . . . . . . . 1653 9. " " Francesco Ruggeri . . . . . . . . . 1670 10. Tenor by Antonio and Girolamo Amati . . . . . 1617 11. " " ditto ditto . . . . . . . . 1618 12. " " Francesco Ruggeri . . . . . . . . . 1619 13. Violoncello by Amati, Cremona . . . . . . . . 1622 14. " " Andrea Guarneri . . . . . . . 1692 The above announcement cannot fail to make one reflect on the different degree of interest excited by a sale of Cremonas a century ago and one at the present time. The sale conducted by Signor Albinoni, in 1790, at Milan, doubtless passed with but little, if any, display of enthusiasm, and were it now possible to learn the prices realised, they would certainly give occasion for surprise when compared with those now obtained. As regards the increased interest taken in rare Violins, the sale of the Gillott collection, in 1872, furnishes an instance of comparatively recent date. The announcement of Messrs. Christie and Manson served to bring together in King Street, St. James's, a legion of Violin votaries. So unusual was the excitement that the _Graphic_ had one of its pages occupied by an excellent representation of "Viewing the Violins." In Paris, in the year 1878, the sale of a Stradivari Violin, at the Hotel Drouot, gave rise to an unusual display of interest. The first bid was for ten thousand francs, and the Stradivari, dated 1709, was knocked down for the large sum of twenty-two thousand one hundred francs. When the biddings at the Hotel des Ventes had reached eighteen thousand francs, a casualty, which might have led to unpleasant results, lent additional zest to the proceedings. There was a great pressure among the crowd to obtain a sight of the Stradivari. Two or three of the more adventurous spirits clambered on to a table to gain a clear prospect of the precious Fiddle, causing the legs of the table to give way and the enthusiasts to be precipitated to the ground. A cry of terror--less for the fallen than for the Fiddle--arose from the throng; but soon the voice of the auctioneer was heard proclaiming, in reassuring accents, "Do not be alarmed, gentlemen; the Stradivari is safe!" AN INDEFATIGABLE VIOLINIST. "Puppo, the Violinist, being in Paris in 1793, was summoned before the Committee of Public Safety on suspicion, when the following interrogatories were put to him: 'Your name?' 'Puppo.' 'What were you doing during the time of the tyrant?' 'I played the Violin.' 'What do you do now?' 'I play the Violin.' 'And what will you do for the nation?' 'I will play the Violin.'" A WISH. "Busts, cameos, gems--such things as these Which others often show for pride, I value for their power to please And selfish churls deride; _One_ Stradivari, I confess. _Two_ meerschaums, I would fain possess." --_Extract from Oliver Wendell Holmes' Lines on Contentment_. LIVING STRADIVARIS. A passionate lover of Fiddles, being in Milan, made the acquaintance of an Italian who, like himself, was a lover of the bow. They had not long met before the theme of their mutual delight was broached; the beautiful features in the works of the great masters were dwelt upon, their respective points of genius discriminated, until the freemasonry of Fiddle-connoisseurship was exhausted. Inquiries were exchanged as to the whereabouts of remarkable specimens, when suddenly the Italian's face brightened, and gave indication that a happy thought had crossed his mind. "By the way, I can introduce you to a friend who has in his possession some choice Stradivaris, of various dates, and having heads of a very marked character." His companion was on his feet before he finished speaking, eagerly demanding where these choice "Strads" were to be seen. The distance being but a few streets off, it was agreed that they should start at once. On arriving at a house in the Via Meravigli, the Italian inquired of the servant if his master was at home. Being assured of this, the Fiddler-connoisseurs were shown into an apartment, where they anxiously awaited the host. Presently he entered, and the usual exchange of courtesies having been gone through, the Italian, with the utmost gravity, inquired after the Stradivaris, and received answer that they never were better; his companion, who was burning to feast his eyes on them, begged that he might have the pleasure of seeing them. The host, flattered by the interest taken in his "Strads" by his visitor, acquiesced, left the room, and brought in his collection, which, if not unique, was in every way original. It consisted of five _Stradivaris_--three boys and two girls. Unable longer to restrain his laughter, the Italian broke forth into one of those hearty peals which terminate only when the risible faculties are completely exhausted. Signor Stradivari, the happy parent of the collection just ushered into the room, regarded his visitor with astonishment, in which he was joined by the specimens of various dates. Ultimately the countenance of Signor Stradivari began to assume anything but a pleased appearance, as he had failed to comprehend what there was about his cherished ones to excite such ungovernable mirth. When the joke was explained, it is needless to say that the wit's friend, the connoisseur, suffered some disappointment, but soon heartily joined in the laugh raised at his expense. Signor Stradivari and his family were not long kept behind the curtain, and soon added their laugh to that of the rest of the company. PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION. A lady belonging to Covent Garden Theatre, who had never heard Paganini, requested leave to be present at one of the rehearsals of his concerts. It happened that Paganini did not bring his Violin with him, but borrowed one from a member of the orchestra, and, instead of playing, made a kind of _pizzicato obbligato_. After the rehearsal was finished, the lady addressed Mr. Cooke: "Oh, dear, Mr. Cooke, what a wonderful man he is! I declare, I may say, that till this morning I never knew what music was capable of." Cooke replied, "Indeed, madam, he is truly wonderful; but allow me to observe that on this occasion you are indebted rather to your imagination than your ears for the delight you have experienced." "How, Mr. Cooke?" "Why, madam, this morning Paganini has not played at all--he has not even touched a bow." "Extraordinary!" exclaimed the lady; "I am more than ever confirmed in my opinion of him; for if _without_ playing he can affect one in such a manner, how much more wonderful are the sensations he must produce when he _does_ play!" A ROYAL AMATEUR. "Francis the First, Emperor of Austria, was a passionate lover of music, and played admirably on the flute. His greatest pleasure was to perform the Trios and Quartetts of the old masters. One of the household physicians of the court excelled on the Tenor. As imperial etiquette did not permit a simple physician to accompany the Emperor in his pieces unless he had the _entree_ at court, Francis first created his doctor a baron, and then a privy councillor, thus giving him his _petites_ and _grandes entrees_. By the help of his Tenor-playing our medical musician insinuated himself so successfully into the good graces of the Emperor, that he became almost the rival of Metternich, and all the other ministers courted his friendship. Such was the rise of the celebrated Baron Still. But for his Tenor, this all-powerful favourite of Francis the First would have lived and died an obscure physician."--_Critique Musicale_. POPE PIUS IX. AND THE MUSICIAN. "An Italian composer, named Peregrini, was a fellow-student of Mastai Ferretti, now the occupant of the Papal chair. Since their quitting college, Fortune abandoned the _maestro_, whilst she smiled upon the priest. One day Pius IX. received the following letter:--'Most Holy Father,--I know not if you recollect that I had the honour of being your fellow-student at College, and that your Holiness has done me the honour of playing duos with me on the Violin; and that the execution of them was not always irreproachable, at least on my part, which so displeased your Holiness at the time that you deigned to apply certain corrections to my fingers. I have taken the liberty of revealing myself to your recollection, and to pray you to take under your protection one who can never cease to remember the happy moments he has passed with him whose apostolic virtues have raised him to the throne of St. Peter.' The Pope replied, 'I have never forgotten your name, my son; come to me at Rome, and we will again play duets together, and if you have not progressed in your studies, I shall know how again to correct you.'"--_Hogarth's Musical Herald_. OLE BULL AND FIDDLE VARNISH. "A man who had a patent varnish for Violins, brought his invention to Ole Bull, and begged him to try it. He said that it gave ordinary instruments the sweet quality of a Cremona Fiddle. Ole Bull tried it, and found that it improved the tone, and promised to use a Violin prepared with it at a concert he had to give at the house of the Duke of Riario. There was a great deal of fashionable company at this concert, and the heat of the room melted this famous varnish, which was really a preparation of asafoetida. The smell which it exuded was so maddening that an ordinary man would have stopped and excused himself; but Ole Bull merely closed his eyes, turned his face away, and played with an energy which became more frenzied the more intolerable the stink became. He enjoyed an overwhelming success, and the Duke rushed forward to seize his hand in congratulation. The appalling odour of asafoetida struck him in the face, and Ole Bull had to explain in what agony he had been performing."--_Ole Bull's_ "_Breve i Uddrag_," _by Jonas Lie, Copenhagen_, 1881. ON THE TREATMENT OF THE VIOLIN. _In a Letter from the celebrated Tartini_. The letter here presented to my readers was translated and published by Dr. Burney, in 1779, under the following title: "A Letter from the late Signor Tartini to Signora Maddalena Lombardini (afterwards Signora Sirmen). Published as an important lesson to performers on the Violin. "'PADUA, _March_ 5, 1760. "'MY VERY MUCH ESTEEMED SIGNORA MADDALENA, "'Finding myself at length disengaged from the weighty business which has so long prevented me from performing my promise to you, a promise which was made with too much sincerity for my want of punctuality not to afflict me, I shall begin the instructions you wish from me by letter; and if I should not explain myself with sufficient clearness, I entreat you to tell me your doubts and difficulties, in writing, which I shall not fail to remove in a future letter. "'Your principal practice and study should, at present be confined to the use and power of the bow, in order to make yourself entirely mistress in the execution and expression of whatever can be played or sung, within the compass and ability of your instrument. Your first study, therefore, should be the true manner of holding, balancing, and pressing the bow lightly but steadily upon the strings; in such a manner as it shall seem to breathe the first tone it gives, which must proceed from the friction of the string, and not from percussion, as by a blow given with a hammer upon it. This depends on laying the bow lightly upon the strings at the first contact, and on gently pressing it afterwards, which, if done gradually, can scarcely have too much force given to it, because, if the tone is begun with delicacy, there is little danger of rendering it afterwards either coarse or harsh. "'Of this first contact and delicate manner of beginning a tone you should make yourself a perfect mistress in every situation and part of the bow, as well in the middle as at the extremities; and in moving it up as well as in drawing it down. To unite all these laborious particulars into one lesson, my advice is, that you first exercise yourself in a swell upon an open string--for example, upon the second string; that you begin _pianissimo_, and increase the tone by slow degrees to its _fortissimo_; and this study should be equally made with the motion of the bow up and down, in which exercise you should spend at least an hour every day, though at different times, a little in the morning and a little in the evening; having constantly in mind, that this is, of all others, the most difficult and the most essential to playing on the Violin. When you are a perfect mistress of this part of a good performer, a swell will be very easy to you; beginning with the most minute softness, increasing the tone to its loudest degree, and diminishing it to the same point of softness with which you began, and all this in the same stroke of the bow. Every degree of pressure upon the string which the expression of a note or passage shall require will by this means be easy and certain; and you will be able to execute with your bow whatever you please. After this, in order to acquire that light pulsation and play of the wrist, from whence velocity in bowing arises, it will be best for you to practise every day one of the _Allegros_, of which there are three in Corelli's Solos, which entirely move in semiquavers. The first is in D, in playing which you should accelerate the motion a little each time, till you arrive at the quickest degree of swiftness possible; but two precautions are necessary in this exercise--the first is, that you play the notes _staccato_, that is, separate and detached, with a little space between every two, for though they are written thus-- [Illustration] they should be played as if there was a rest after every note, in this manner-- [Illustration] The second precaution is, that you first play with the point of the bow; and when that becomes easy to you, that you use that part of it which is between that part and the middle; and when you are likewise mistress of this part of the bow, that you practise in the same manner with the middle of the bow; and, above all, you must remember in these studies to begin the _Allegros_ or flights sometimes with an up-bow; and sometimes with a down-bow, carefully avoiding the habit of constantly practising one way. In order to acquire a greater facility of executing swift passages in a light and neat manner, it will be of great use to you if you accustom yourself to skip over a string between two quick notes in divisions, like these-- [Illustration] Of such divisions you may play extempore as many as possible, and in every key, which will be both useful and necessary. "'With regard to the finger-board, or carriage of the left hand, I have one thing strongly to recommend to you, which will suffice for all; and that is, the taking a Violin part, either the first or second of a concerto, sonata, or song--anything will serve the purpose--and playing it upon the half-shift, that is, with the first finger upon G on the first string, and constantly keeping upon this shift, playing the whole piece without moving the hand from this situation, unless A on the fourth string be wanted, or D upon the first; but in that case, you should afterwards return again to the half-shift, without ever moving the hand down to the natural position. This practice should be continued till you can execute with facility upon the half-shift any Violin part not intended as a solo, at sight. After this, advance the hand on the finger-board to the whole-shift, with the first finger upon A on the first string, and accustom yourself to this position till you can execute everything upon the whole-shift with as much ease as when the hand is in its natural situation; and when certain of this, advance to the double-shift, with the first finger upon B, on the first string; and when sure of that likewise, pass to the fourth position of the hand, making C with the first finger upon the first string; and indeed this is a scale in which, when you are firm, you may be said to be mistress of the finger-board. This study is so necessary, that I most earnestly recommend it to your attention. "'I now pass to the third essential part of a good performer on the Violin, which is the making of a good shake, and I would have you practise it slow, moderately fast, and quick; that is, with the two notes succeeding each other in these three degrees of _adagio_, _andante_, and, _presto_; and in practice you have great occasion for these different kinds of shakes; for the same shake will not serve with equal propriety for a slow movement as for a quick one; but to acquire both at once with the same trouble, begin with an open string, either the first or second, it will be equally useful; sustain the note in a swell, and begin the shake very slow, increasing in quickness, by insensible degrees, till it becomes rapid, in the manner following:-- [Illustration] But you must not vigorously move immediately from semiquavers to demisemiquavers, as in this example, or from these to the next in degree--that would be doubling the velocity of the shake all at once, which would be a skip, not a graduation; but you can imagine between a semiquaver and a demisemiquaver intermediate degrees of rapidity, quicker than the one, and slower than the other of these characters; you are therefore to increase in velocity by the same degrees in practising the shake, as in loudness when you make a swell. You must attentively and assiduously persevere in the practice of this embellishment, and begin at first with an open string, upon which if you are once able to make a good shake with the first finger, you will with the greater facility acquire one with the second, the third, and the fourth, or little finger, with which you must practise in a particular manner, as more feeble than the rest of its brethren. I shall, at present, propose no other studies to your application: what I have already said is more than sufficient, if your zeal is equal to my wishes for your improvement. I hope you will sincerely inform me whether I have explained myself clearly thus far; that you will accept of my respects, which I likewise beg of you to present to the Prioress, to Signora Teresa, and to Signora Chiara, for all whom I have a sincere regard; and believe me to be with great affection, "'Your obedient and most humble servant, "'GIUSEPPE TARTINI.'" INDEX A PAGE Absam, Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293 Acevo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 Adam, as a Violist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Adams . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293 Addison, William . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293 Aireton, Edmund, good work, Amatese model . . . . . . . . . . . 293 Alard, M., composer and Professor at the Conservatoire . . . . . 395 Albanesi, Sebastiano . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 Albani . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259 Albani, Mathias (2); Italian style, good model and workmanship . 259 Albani, Paolo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260 Albani, Mathias, Stainer form, good varnish . . . . . . . . . . 259 Aldred . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293 Aldric, copier of Stradivari; dealings with Luigi Tarisio . . . 231 Aletzie, Paolo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260 Allar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Alvani . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78 Amati, Andrea, his Violins mostly "Three-quarter"; founder of the School of Cremona; character of his Varnish; his method of cutting; his "Charles IX. Set," in the Chapel Royal, Versailles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78-81 Amati, the Brothers Antonio and Girolamo, character of their work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 Amati, Girolamo, son of Niccolo, his instruments described; character of his varnish . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92 Amati, Niccolo, the greatest of his family; special characteristics of his work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84-92 Amelot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Anecdotes and Miscellanea connected with the Violin . . . . . . 410 Apollo and Orpheus, in Fiddle History . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Appleby, Mr. Samuel, letter from, on the Gasparo da Salo Double-Bass of Signor Dragonetti . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 465 Arabian Origin of the Ribeca, alleged . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Arabians, Inventors of the Monochord . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Ariberti, Bartolommeo, Marquis, his letter to Stradivari . . . . 193 Arisi, Desiderio on Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185 Artmann, copier of Amati . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260 Asiatic Origin of the Violin, alleged . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Askey, Samuel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293 Aubry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Augiere . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Augustus, Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, his patronage of Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207 B Bachelier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Bach, John Sebastian; influence of his great compositions on the development of Violin-playing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 404 Bachmann, Carl Ludwig, Court Musician to Frederick the Great; founder of concerts for amateurs at Berlin . . . . . . . . . . 260 Bachmann, O., author of a book on Bow Instruments . . . . . . . 260 Bagatella, Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 Bagatella, Pietro . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 Baillot, Pierre, Violinist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 394 Baines . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293 Baker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293 Balestrieri, character of his Instruments . . . . . . . . . . . 95 Ballantine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293 Baltzar, Thomas, Violinist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 382 Banks, Benjamin; high character of his work . . . . . . . . . . 294 Banks, Benjamin (2) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296 Banks, James and Henry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296 Bannister, John, Violinist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 383 Barnes, Robert . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 297 Barrett, John, follower of Stainer, good quality . . . . . . . . 297 Barton, George . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 297 Bassiano . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96 Bassot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 Bausch, Ludwig C. A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 Bausch, L. B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 Bausch, Otto B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 Bazzini, Antonio, Violinist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 392 Beckmann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 Bedler . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 Beethoven, and his works for the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . 407 Bellosio, Anselmo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96 Benda, Francis, Violinist and composer . . . . . . . . . . . . . 403 Bente, Matteo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96 Bergonzi, Benedetto . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Bergonzi, Carlo (1), pupil of Antonio Stradivari; characteristics of his work; comparison with Giuseppe Guarneri and Stradivari; his resplendent varnish; his Violins and Violoncellos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96 Bergonzi, Carlo (2) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Bergonzi, Michel Angelo, pattern of his instruments . . . . . . 102 Bergonzi, Niccolo, his work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102 Bergonzi, Zosimo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Bertolotti (Gaspar da Salo) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 Beriot, Charles de, Belgian composer and Violinist . . . . . . . 395 Bernardel, Sebastien Philippe, worked with Lupot; excellent work 231 Bertassi, Ambrogio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Bertrand, Nicolas, Viol-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232 Betts, Edward, copyist of Amati, high finish . . . . . . . . . . 298 Betts, John, pupil of Duke . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 297 Betts Stradivari, The, and Mr. Charles Reade's letter thereon . 467 "Betts Strad," The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 466 Bimbi, B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Bindernagel, good copyist of Amati . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 Blagrove, Henry, his "Concerti da Camera" . . . . . . . . . . . 401 Blasius, St., MS. destroyed by fire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Boccherini, his Quintettes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 390 Boivin, Claude, Guitar-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232 Bolles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Booth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Booth, William . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Boquay, Jacques; old French School; good character of work . . . 232 Borelli, Andrea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Borlon, Artus, or Arnould . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 Borlon, Francois, Viol-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 Borlon, Joannes, Viol-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 Borlon (or Porlon), Pierre, Double-Bass maker . . . . . . . . . 233 Boucher . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Boullangier, C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 Boumeester . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 Bourdet, Jacques . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234 Bourdet, Sebastien . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234 Boussu, Eterbeck . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234 Bowed Instruments, Early references to . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Braccia, Viola da, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Brensio, Girolamo (Brensius) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Brescia, Da, Battista . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 Brescia, the cradle of Violin making . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 Breton Le . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234 Bridge, The, its position, form, and selection . . . . . . . . . 38 Britton, Tom, The "Small-coal Man" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 384 Broschi, Carlo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 Browne, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Brown, James . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Buchstadter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 Budiani, Giovita (see Rodiani) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 Bull, Ole B., his great artistic skill . . . . . . . . . . . . . 393 Busseto, Giovanni M. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 C Cahusac . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Calcagni, Bernardo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 Calot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234 Calvarola, Bartolommeo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 Camilli, Camillo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 Campagnoli, his "Studies" and "Violin School" . . . . . . . . . 391 Cappa, Gioffredo, high character of his work . . . . . . . . . . 105 Carcassi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106 Carrodus, John, Violinist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 402 Carter, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Casini, Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106 Castagneri, Andrea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 Castagnery, Jean Paul . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234 Castellani . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 Castro . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 Catenar, Enrico . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 "Catgut," a misnomer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 Catlins, Venetian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46 Celioniati, Gian Francesco . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 Cerin, Marco Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 Ceruti, Enrico, exhibitioner in London and Milan Exhibition . . 108 Ceruti, Giovanni Battista, follower of Amati pattern . . . . . . 108 Ceruti, Giuseppe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108 Cervetto and Garrick . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 442 Chaconne, of Moorish origin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Challoner, Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Champion Rene . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234 Chanot, Francois . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 234 Chanot, F. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 Chanot, G. A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 Chanot, Georges, an indefatigable and excellent workman; copyist of Stradivari and Guarneri; known also as a dealer . . . . . . 235 Chanot, Georges (_fils_) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 Chappell, Arthur, his "Monday Popular Concerts" . . . . . . . . 402 Chappuy, Nicolas-Augustin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 Chardon, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Charles II. as a Musician . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 384 Charotte . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Cheli, or Chelys, The, description and alleged origin of . . . . 15 Chesterfield, Lord, his estimate of Fiddles and Fiddling . . . . 397 "Chest of Viols" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 Chevrier, Andre-Augustin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Christa, Joseph Paul . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 Cinderella Violoncello, A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 448 Circapa, Tommaso . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 Claudot, Augustin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Claudot, Charles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Clement . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Cliquot, Henri . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Cliquot, Louis Alexandre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Cocco, Cristoforo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 Cole, James . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Cole, Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Collectors of Italian and other Violins . . . . . . . . . . . . 365 Collier, Samuel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Collier, Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Collingwood, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Composers for the Violin, early English . . . . . . . . . . . . 381 "Concerto of Violins" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194 Construction of the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 Contreras, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 Conway, William . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Cooper, Henry C., Violinist, and the Quartette Association . . . 402 Copyists, three kinds of, and their methods . . . . . . . . . . 144 Corbett, William, an early collector of Italian Violins; his Gallery of Cremonys and Stainers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 365 Cordano, Jacopo Filippo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 Corelli, his Sonatas, or "Balletti da Camera" . . . . . . . . . 379 Corsby . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Corsby, George . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Costa, Pietro Antonio dalla . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 Covered Strings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 Cozio, Count, patron of Mantegazza, 152; purchaser of Stradivari's tools and models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 361 Cramer, William and Francois, Violinists, and the "Ancient Concerts" in London . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 401 Cramond, Charles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Crask, George . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Credulous Dabblers and Fiddle Marks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 457 Cremonese apathy as to Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 Cremonese Varnish, a "lost art" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71 Crescent-formed Sound-hole . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Cristofori, Bartolommeo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 Cross Nathaniel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Crowdero, The Champion, and Hudibras . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 410 Crowther, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Cunault . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Cuny . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Cuthbert . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 "Cutting" and maiming, Charles Reade on . . . . . . . . . . . . 248 Cuypers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 D Dalla Valle, Marquis, possessor of Stradivari's tools and models 189 Dando, Violinist, and the "Concerti da Camera" in London . . . . 401 Daniel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237 Darche . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237 Dardelli, Pietro, his Lutes and Viols . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 David . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237 Davidson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Davis, Richard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Davis, William . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Dearlove, Mark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 De Beriot and Maggini's Violins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150 Decadence of the Violin-maker's art, general causes of . . . . . 286 De Comble, Ambroise, probably a pupil of Stradivari; good character of work, varnish, and tone . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237 Dehommais . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 Delanoix . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 Delany, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Delaunay . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 Deleplanque, Gerard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 Del Gesu (see Guarneri) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132 Dennis, Jesse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 Derazey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 Despine, A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111 Despons, Antoine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 Devereux, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 Dibdin, Charles, his early musical experiences . . . . . . . . . 319 Dichord of the Egyptians and Arabians . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Dickeson, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 Dickinson, Edward . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 Dieffopruchar, Magno (Magnus Tieffenbrucker) . . . . . . . . . . 111 Diehl, Friedrich . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 Diehl, Heinrich . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 Diehl, Johann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 Diehl, Nicolaus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 Diel, Johann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 Diel, Jacob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 Diel (or Diehl), Martin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 Diel, Nicolaus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 Dieulafait, Viol-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 Ditton . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 Dodd, Thomas, a dealer and employer of makers of high merit, and famous for his varnish . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 Dodd, Thomas (_fils_) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 303 "Dolphin Strad," The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200 Dominicelli . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111 Dopfer, Nicolaus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 Dorant, William . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 304 Double-Basses and Violas the stepping-stones to Violin-making . 25 Dragonetti, his heavy strings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 Dragonetti's Gasparo da Salo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 463 Droulot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 Ducheron, Mathurin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 Duiffoprugcar, Gaspar, comparison of his claims with those of Gaspar da Salo; description of his work . . . . . . . . . . . 111 Duke, Richard, one of the most distinguished of English makers, but often counterfeited . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 304 Duke, Richard (_fils_) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305 Du Mesnil, Jacques . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 Duncan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305 Durfel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 E Earliest representation of stringed instruments . . . . . . . . 6 Early history of Violin involved in obscurity . . . . . . . . . 1 Early makers, their great care in selection of wood for the Violins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 Eastern origin of the Bow, alleged . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Eberle, J. Ulric, good copyist of Italian masters . . . . . . . 262 Eccles, John Henry, musician to Louis XIV.; his solos for the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 385 Eccles, Thomas, an itinerant Violinist . . . . . . . . . . . . . 385 Edlinger, Joseph Joachim . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 Edlinger, T. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262 Eesbroeck, Jean Van . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 Eglington . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305 Egyptian Obelisk, stringed instruments on . . . . . . . . . . . 6 "Elector Stainers," The Twelve . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 275 Elliston and George III. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 444 Elsler, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 Engel's "Researches into Early History of the Violin" . . . . . 4 English Makers, List of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293 English makers, no mention of by continental writers on the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284 English School, The, 284; causes of its decadence . . . . . . . 285 Ernst, Franz Anton; an eminent Violinist and pupil of Lolli; also a maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 Ernst, Herr, his exquisite style as a Violinist . . . . . . . . 409 Ettrick Shepherd, The, and the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . . 482 Eugene, Prince, and Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203 European origin of the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 Evans, Richard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305 Evelyn, John, on celebrity of old Lutinists . . . . . . . . . . 263 Experiments as to tension of Violin strings . . . . . . . . . . 54 F Falaise, copied Amati and Stradivari; good work . . . . . . . . 239 Farinato, Paolo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112 Felden, M. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 Fendt (or Fent) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 Fendt, Bernard, an admirable workman, employed by Dodd and John Betts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305 Fendt, Bernard Simon, a high-class maker of Italian models . . . 307 Fendt, Francis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309 Fendt, Jacob, clever copyist of Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . 308 Fendt, Martin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 308 Fendt, William . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309 Ferguson, Donald . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309 Fesca, Violinist, and his quartettes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 408 Festing, Michael Christian, and the Philharmonic Society and Royal Society of Musicians . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 398 Fetis, M., his Eastern theory of the Bow, 14; his notice of Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177 _f_-holes, or Sound-holes, their importance . . . . . . . . . . 40 Fichtold, Hans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 Fichtl, Martin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 Ficker, Johann Christian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 Ficker, Johann Gotlieb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 Fiddle Marks and the Credulous Dabblers . . . . . . . . . . . . 457 Fiddle Trade, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 483 Finger-board, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 Fiorillo, Giovanni . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112 Firth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309 Fischer, Zacharie . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 Flanders, early musical culture in . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Fleury, Benoist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 Forster, Simon Andrew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 312 Forster, William (i.), spinning-wheel and Violin-maker . . . . . 309 Forster, William (ii.), spinning-wheel and Violin-maker, and village Violinist; copyist of Stainer, and of the Amatis; excellent character of his work; his instruments prized by Lindley . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 310 Forster, William (iii.), excellent work and model . . . . . . . 312 Forster, William (iv.), good work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 312 Fountaine, Mr., his collection of instruments . . . . . . . . . 366 "Four Corners" of the Violono . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Fourrier, Nicolas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 Francis I. of Austria, an amateur musician . . . . . . . . . . . 498 Frankland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313 Frei, Hans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 French Makers, List of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 French School, The; sketch of its Rise and Progress . . . . . . 224 Fretted Viols . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 Frey, Hans, Lute-maker; related to Albert Durer; his work praised by John Evelyn . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 Fritzche . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 "Fugal Vortex," The Prince and the . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 491 Furber, copier of the "Betts" Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . 313 Furber, Henry John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313 G Gabrielli, Giovanni Battista . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 Gaffino, Giuseppe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 Gagliano, Alessandro, pupil of A. Stradivari; description of his work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 Gagliano, Antonio, Giovanni, Giuseppe, and Raffaele . . . . . . 116 Gagliano, Ferdinando . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116 Gagliano, Gennaro . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115 Gagliano, Niccolo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115 Gaillard, Charles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 Gaillard, J. B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 Gainsborough as a Musician . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 438 Galbusera, C. A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116 Ganassi, Silvestro, his work on the Viol . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Gand, Adolphe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 Gand, Eugene, partner with Bernadel Brothers . . . . . . . . . . 241 Gand, Francois, pupil and son-in-law of Nicolas Lupot; excellent work, especially as a repairer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240 Garani, Michel Angelo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Garani, Niccolo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Garrick and Cervetto . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 442 Gasparo da Salo, reputed inventor of the four-stringed Violin, 26; the first great artistic maker, characteristics of his work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168-172 Gatinari, Francesco . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Gavinies, Francois, old French School; good quality . . . . . . 241 Gavinies, Pierre, his Concertos and Sonatas . . . . . . . . . . 393 Gedler, Johann A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Gedler, Johann B. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Geissenhof, Franz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Geige, The, derivation of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Geminiani, Francesco, his Sonatas and other works . . . . . . . 387 Gennaro, G. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 George III. and Elliston . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 444 Gerbertus, Martinus, De Cantu et Musica Sacra . . . . . . . . . 10 Gerle, Johann, Lutes and Viols . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Germain, Emile . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Germain, Joseph Louis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241 German Makers, List of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259 German origin of the Violin, early indications of . . . . . . 17-18 German School, The, its poverty as to makers of originality . . 258 German Violins, no trace of in the time of Gasparo da Salo . . . 25 Geroni, Domenico . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Ghidini, C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Giardini, Felice, composer and Violinist . . . . . . . . . . . . 389 Gibbs, James . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313 Gibertini, Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Gigeours, The, of Germany . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 Gilkes, William, Double-Bass maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314 Gilkes, Samuel, pupil of Forster; an excellent workman . . . . . 313 Gillott Collection, The; its origin, character, and dispersion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 367-374 Giorgi, N. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Giustiniani, Lorenzo, his letter to Stradivari . . . . . . . . . 206 Gobetti (Gobit), Francesco, high character of his work . . . . . 118 Goding Collection, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 366 Goding, Mr. James, his Stradivari with an alien scroll; a curious coincidence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 455 Gofriller, Francesco . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 Gofriller, Matteo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 Gosselin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Gough, Walter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314 Gragnani, Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120 Grancino, Francesco . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 Grancino, Giovanni . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 Grancino, Giovanni Battista . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 Grancino, Paolo, pupil of Niccolo Amati; description of his work 120 "Grand Amati" pattern, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 Grand-Gerard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Grandson, Fils . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Graun, Violinist to the King of Prussia . . . . . . . . . . . . 403 Griesser, Matthias . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Grimm, Carl . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Grobitz, A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Grosset, Paul Francois . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Gross-Geige, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 Grulli, Pietro . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 Guadagnini, Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126 Guadagnini, Carlo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126 Guadagnini, Francesco and Giuseppe, now living at Turin . . . . 126 Guadagnini, Gaetano . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 Guadagnini, Giovanni Battista, pupil of Stradivari; description of his work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123 Guadagnini, Giuseppe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 Guadagnini, Lorenzo, the first of his family; high character of his work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 Guarneri, Andrea, the pioneer of his family; pupil of Amati; his Violins and Violoncellos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126 Guarneri, at a discount . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 458 Guarneri, Giuseppe (son of Andrea); originality of his style, and peculiarity of his sound-holes; character of his varnish; high value of his Violins, Violas, and Violoncellos . . . . . 129 Guarneri, Giuseppe (del Gesu); his peculiar cypher; probably a pupil of his cousin Giuseppe; his fertility of design; traditions as to his "prison Fiddles;" three orders of copyists; Paganini's Guarneri . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132-147 Guarneri, Pietro (brother of Giuseppe filius Andrae), description of his work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131 Guarneri, Pietro (son of Giuseppe filius Andrae) . . . . . . . . 132 Guersan, Louis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Gugemmos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Guidanti, Giovanni (Joannes Guidantus), specimen at exhibition of Milan, 1881; character of his work . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Guillami . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Gunn, John, his essay on stringed instruments . . . . . . . . . 7 H Habeneck, Francois Antoine, composer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 395 Haensel, Johann A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Hamberger, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Hamm, Johann Gottfried . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Hammig, W. H. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Handel, George Frederick, and the Royal Society of Musicians, 399; influence of his works on Violin-playing . . . . . . . . 405 Harbour . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314 Hardie, Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314 Hardie, Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314 Hare, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314 Hare, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314 Harris Charles, an excellent copyist, Italian mode . . . . . . . 315 Harris, Charles (2), good character of work . . . . . . . . . . 316 Hart, John Thomas, pupil of Samuel Gilkes; distinguished as a connoisseur, dealer and collector . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 316 Harton, Michael, Lute-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Hassert . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 Hawkins, Sir John, his "History of Music," 7; his opinion of Stainer's merits . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Haydn, Joseph, his quartettes, and a Lady's humorous comparison, 405-406; Haydn in London; Letters from Rev. T. Twining . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 435 Haynes, J. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317 Heesom, Edward . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317 Hel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Helmer, Carl . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Henry, Charles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Henry, Eugene . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Henry, Jean Baptiste . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Henry, Jean Baptiste Felix . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Henry, Octave . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Herbert, George, his references to music . . . . . . . . . . . . 420 Hildebrandt, Michael C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Hill, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317 Hill, Lockey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317 Hill, William . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317 Hill, William Ebsworth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 318 Hiltz, Paul . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Hobby-horses, Laurence Sterne on . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 331 Hoffmann, Johann Christian, Lutes and Viols . . . . . . . . . . 265 Hoffman, Martin, Lutes and Viols . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Hofmans, Mathias . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 Hogarth's "Line of Beauty" and the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . 28 Holloway, J. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 318 Holmes, Henry and Alfred, Violinists . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 403 Holmes, Oliver Wendell, on the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . . 332 Horil, Jacob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Hornstainer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Hornstainer, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Hudibras and the Champion Crowdero . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 410 Huller, August . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Humel, Christian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Hume, Richard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 318 Hunger, Christoph Friedrich . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 I Illuminated MSS. of the Middle Ages, and other early evidence . 12 "II Per" (see Ruggeri, Francesco) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165 Indefatigable Violinist, An . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 495 Individuality and affinity both evident in the work of the several Italian Schools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 Influence of different varnishes on the tone of the Violin . . . 75 Instruction in Violin-playing, by Tartini . . . . . . . . . . . 501 Italian Makers, List of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 Italian School of Violin-playing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 388 Italian Varnishes, the different varieties described . . . . . . 70 Italian Violins, five distinct Schools: the Brescian; the Cremonese; the Neapolitan; Florence, Bologna and Rome; the Venetian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 Itinerant Musicians and the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20, 386 J "Jack of All Trades," Charles Reade's . . . . . . . . . . . . . 322 Jacobs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 Jacobs, Hendrik, a close imitator of Nicolas Amati . . . . . . . 242 Jacquot, Charles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 Jacquot, Charles (_fils_) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 Jais, Johann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Jauch, Johann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Jay, Henry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 318 Jay, Henry, maker of Kits and Violoncellos . . . . . . . . . . . 318 Jay, Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 318 Jeandel, P. N. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 Jenkins, John, his twelve Sonatas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 381 Joachim, Herr, and Bach's Sonatas, 404; his high rank as a performer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 409 Johnson, Dr., on Collecting as a Hobby, 374; on the Violin . . . 429 Johnson, John, Violin and music-seller; his relations with Charles Dibdin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 319 Jongleurs, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 K Kambl, Johann A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Karb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Kembter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 Kennedy, Alexander . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 320 Kennedy, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 320 Kennedy, Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 320 Kerlino, Joan, Viol-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Kiaposse, Sawes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Kirchschlag . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Klein-Geige, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Kloz, Egidius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Kloz, George . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Kloz, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Kloz, J. Karl . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Kloz, Matthias, pupil of Stainer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Kloz, Sebastian, his work much esteemed . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Knitting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Knittle, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Kohl, Johann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Kolditz, J. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 266 Kolditz, Mathias Johann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Koliker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 Kramer, H. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Kriner, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 L Labels as Trade-marks sometimes transferred . . . . . . . 118, 357 Lafont, Violinist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 394 Lagetto, Luigi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 Lamb, Charles, and his "ragged veterans" . . . . . . . . . . . . 358 Lambert, Jean Nicolas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 Lancetti, Vincenzo, extract from his MS. on Italian Violin-making, 68; on Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188 Landolfi, Carlo Ferdinando; high character of his work . . . . . 147 Lane's "Modern Egypt," and the Rebab . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Lanza, Antonio Maria . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148 Lapaix . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Laprevotte, Etienne . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Laska, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Lavazza, Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148 Lavazza, Santino . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148 Leclair, Jean Marie, Violinist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 393 Leclerc . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Lecomte . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Leduc, Pierre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Lefebvre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Leigh Hunt on Paganini . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 469 Le Jeune, Francois . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Lentz, Johann Nicolaus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 320 Leonardo da Vinci as a Violist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 375 Le Pileur, Pierre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Lesclop, Francois Henry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Lewis, Edward . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 321 Linarolli, Venturo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148 Lindley, Robert, character of his stringing . . . . . . . . . . 51 Lipinski, composer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 396 Lister . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 321 Living Stradivaris . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 495 Locatelli as a composer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 389 Lolli, his "feats on one string" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 389 Loly, Jacopo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148 Lombardini, Paolo, his pamphlet on Stradivari, 178; his pedigree of Stradivari's family . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179 Lombardini, Signora Maddalena, letter from Tartini to, on the art of Playing the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 501 Longman and Broderip, music-sellers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 321 "Long Strad," The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195 Lott, George Frederick, a clever workman . . . . . . . . . . . . 322 Lott, John Frederick, employed by Dodd, and a first-class workman; high character of his Double-Basses . . . . . . . . . 321 Lott, John Frederick (2), a clever copyist, and the original of Charles Reade's "Jack of all Trades" . . . . . . . . . . . . . 322 Louis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Louvet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Lulli, Jean Baptiste, Violinist to Louis XIV.; his influence as a composer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 381 Lupot, Francois . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Lupot, Jean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Lupot, Laurent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 Lupot, Nicolas; famous as a copier of Stradivari; maker to the Conservatoire; genuine character of his work, as to form, varnish, and telling quality of tone . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 M Mace, Thomas, on the prices and choice of Lutes and Viols . . . 334 Macintosh . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 322 Madrigal, The, sixteenth century . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Maggini, Giovanni Paolo, pupil of Gasparo da Salo; other makers' work frequently attributed to him; comparison of his instruments with those of Gasparo; De Beriot's use of his instruments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149 Maler, Laux, Lute-maker (the "Stradivari of Lutes"); Thomas Mace on the prices of these instruments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150 Mann, Hans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Mantegazza, Pietro Giovanni, maker and repairer of Violins and Tenors; good work; patronised by Count Cozio . . . . . . . . . 151 Manuscripts, Illuminated, of the Middle Ages . . . . . . . . . . 12 Maratti . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 Marchetti . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 Mariani, Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 Marquis de Lair . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247 Marshall . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323 Martin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323 Mast, Jean Laurent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247 Mast . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247 Maucotel, Charles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247 Maucotel, Charles Adolphe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248 Maussiell, Leonard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Maher (Maier), Andreas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Mayseder, Joseph, Violinist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 408 Mayson, W. H. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323 Meares, Richard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323 Medard, Francois . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248 Medard, Jean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248 Medard, Nicolas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248 Meiberi, Francesco . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 "Memoirs of Music," Roger North's . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Mendelssohn and Haydn as performers on the Violin . . . . . . . 407 Mennegand, Charles, distinguished as a maker, and also as a repairer and "cutter" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248 Messeguer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 Meusidler, Johann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Mezadri, Alessandro . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 Mezadri, Francesco . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 "Michael Schnapps," the Fiddle Ogre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 487 Mier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323 Miremont, Claude Augustin, excellent work as a copyist . . . . . 249 Missing Scroll, A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 452 Modena, Duke of, and Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 Modessier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249 Mohr, Philip . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Moldonner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Molique, Bernard, Violinist, and composer . . . . . . . . . . . 408 Monochord, Arabian invention of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Montagnana, Domenico, pupil of Antonio Stradivari; termed "the Mighty Venetian;" his work frequently attributed to other great makers; comparison of work with that of his fellow-maker, Carlo Bergonzi; increasing popularity of his instruments; high character of his varnish . . . . . . . 152-157 Montagnana instrument shot through the body, A . . . . . . . . . 456 Montaldi, Gregorio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 Monteverde, Claudio, his opera "Orfeo" . . . . . . . . . . . . . 378 Morella, famous for Viols and Lutes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 Moorish influence on music in Spain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Mori, Nicholas, Violinist, and the Royal Academy of Music . . . 401 Morisca, or Morris Dance, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Mornington, Earl of, his early development of musical taste . . 399 Morris Dance, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Morrison, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323 Mougenot, G. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Mozart, Leopold, and his "Method" for the Violin; his early musical genius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 407 Musical strings, materials used and places of manufacture . . . 46 Musicians, Royal Society of, its origin . . . . . . . . . . . . 398 "Musick's Monument" of Thomas Mace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150 N Nadotti, Giuseppe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 Namy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Naylor, Isaac . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323 Neck of the Violin, Form and material of . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 Nella, Raffaele . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 Netherlands, love of music in the . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Nezot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Nichols, E. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323 Nicolas, Didier, Stradivari copyist; good tone . . . . . . . . . 250 Nicolas, Francois (Nicolas Fourrier) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Nicolas, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Niggel, Simpertus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 Norborn, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323 Norman, Barak, his instruments best of old English character; worked with Nathaniel Cross; follower of Maggini model . . . . 323 Norris John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 325 North, Hon. Roger, his "Memoirs of Music" . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Number of constituent parts of the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . 35 O Obelisk, Egyptian, stringed instruments on . . . . . . . . . . . 6 Ohberg, Johann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 "Old Borax," and the Fiddle Trade . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 483 Old Masters, their great care in selection of material . . . . . 33 Ole Bull and Fiddle varnish . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 500 "Orfeo," The, of Monteverde . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 378 Orpheus and Apollo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Orsini, Cardinal, and Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190 Ortega . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 Ott, Johann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Otto, C. U. F. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Otto, Carl . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Otto, Christian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Otto, Georg August . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Otto, Heinrich . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Otto, Jacob August . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Otto, Ludwig . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Ouvrard, Jean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 P Pacherel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Pacherele, Michel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Paganini's Guarneri Violin, where now deposited, and anecdote of, 340; extraordinary character of his work and career . . . 392 Paganini, Leigh Hunt on . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 469 Pamphilon, Edward . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 325 Pandolfi, Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 Panormo, George Lewis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 325 Panormo, Joseph, excellent work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 325 Panormo, Louis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 325 Panormo, Vincenzo; follower of Antonio Stradivari, and famous as a genuine copyist; his struggles with adversity; comparison of his work with that of Lupot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 Pansani, Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 Paolo Veronese, his picture of "The Marriage of Cana" . . . . . 376 Parker, Daniel, a good Old English maker . . . . . . . . . . . . 325 Parth, Andreas Nicholas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Pasta, Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 Pasta, Domenico . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 Paul, Saint . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 Pazzini, G. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 Pearce, James . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326 Pedigree of the family of Antonio Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . 179 Pemberton, Edward . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326 Perry and Wilkinson, good quality and finish . . . . . . . . . . 326 Pfretzschner, Carl Friedrich . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Pfretzschner, Gottlob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Philharmonic Society, and Michael C. Festing . . . . . . . . . . 398 Philip V. of Spain, his visit to Cremona . . . . . . . . . . . . 204 Phillips, a Welsh Violinist, Dr. Johnson's Epitaph on . . . . . 431 Picino, G. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 Pierray, Claude, excellent work, Italian character, good varnish; an example possessed by Tom Britton . . . . . . . . . 250 Piete, N. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251 Pique, F. L., copyist of Stradivari, school of Lupot; good material and workmanship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251 Pirot, Claude . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Plack, F. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Platner, Michel, resemblance of his work to that of Tecchler . . 160 Pleasures of Imagination . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 497 Plectrum, Reference to . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Plowden Collection, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 367 Pollitzer, Adolphe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 396 Pollusca, Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161 Pons, Cesar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Pons, Guitar-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Pope Pius IX. and the musician . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 499 Porlon, Peeter (or Borlon) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 Possen, L. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Postiglione, V. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161 Powell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326 Pressenda, Giovanni Francesco, high character of his work, and especially of his varnish; his instruments of Amatese and Stradivarian models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161 Preston, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 327 Prices of Violins, &c., at various periods . . . . . . . . . 334-338 "Prison Fiddles," of Guarneri del Gesu . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140 Progress of the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 375 Provence and the origin of the Geige . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Ptolemeus, Claudius, on Harmonic Sounds . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 Puppo, Violinist, Anecdote of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 495 Purcell, Henry, his Sonatas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 383 Purfling of the Violin, 40; of the Brothers Amati . . . . . . . 84 Q Quack Violin-Doctors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Quantz, Johann, Flautist, and Frederick the Great . . . . . . . 269 Quartette Association, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 402 R Rabenalt, Theodore, his drama, "Jacob Stainer" . . . . . . . . . 277 Racceris . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 Rambaux, Claude Victor, a clever repairer . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Rance, T. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Rauch . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Rauch, Jacob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Rauch, Sebastian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Raut, Jean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Ravanon, King of Ceylon, and his instrument called the "Ravanastron" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Rawlins, Henry, patronised by Giardini . . . . . . . . . . . . . 327 Rayman, Jacob, founder of English Violin-making; good character of work and varnish . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 327 Reade, Charles, on the "Four Corners" of the Violono, 25; on the Violins of Stradivari, 201; on the art of "cutting," 249; his letter on the Betts Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 467 Rebab, taken to Spain by the Moors, 7; in Egypt . . . . . . . . 8 Rebec, Origin of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Reichel, Johann Conrad . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Reichel, Johann Gottfried . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Reichers, August . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Remy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Remy, Jean Mathurin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Remy, Jules . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Renaudin, Leopold . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Renault, Nicolas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Ribeca, alleged Arabian origin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Richards, Edwin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 Riess . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Rinaldi, Gioffredo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 Rivolta, G. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 Rocca, J. A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 Rode, Violinist and composer, his Caprices and Concertos, and his Instruction Book . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 394 Rodiani, G. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 Rogeri, Giovanni Battista, pupil of Niccolo Amati; his work highly valued . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 Rogeri, Pietro Giacomo, pupil of N. Amati; good work; excellent varnish . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165 Rogers, Dr. Benjamin, his four-part Airs for Violins . . . . . . 381 Rombouts, Peeter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Rook, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 Roscher, C. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Ross, John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 Rosse (or Ross) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 Rota, Giovanni . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 Roth, Christian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Rousseau, Jean, his Treatise on the Viol . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Rovetta . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 Royal Amateur, A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 498 Royal Band of Charles II., its poverty . . . . . . . . . . . . . 382 Royal Society of Musicians, Origin of . . . . . . . . . . . . . 398 Roze . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253 Ruf, Herr S., his History of Jacob Stainer . . . . . . . . . . . 275 Ruggeri, Francesco ("Il Per"); excellent character of workmanship, design, and varnish; pupil of Niccolo Amati . . . 165 Ruggeri, Giacinto . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167 Ruggeri, Giambattista, high-class work in Violins, Violas, and Violoncellos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167 Ruggeri, Vincenzo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167 Ruppert, Franz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Ruppert, J. N. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 S Sacchini, S. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168 Sacquin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253 Sainprae, Jacques . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 Sainton, M., Violinist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 395 Salabue, Count Cozio di, his passion for and collection of Violins, 359; his correspondence relative to his purchase of the reliques of Antonio Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 360 Sale of Cremonese Instruments in 1790 . . . . . . . . . . . . . 493 Salle, a clever restorer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253 Salo, Gasparo da . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168-170 Salomon, Jean Baptiste, maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253 Salomon, Violinist, his concerts in London; his negotiations with Haydn . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 400 San Domenico, Cremona, burial-place of Stradivari . . . . . . . 212 Sanoni, Giovanni Battista . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172 Sanscrit Literature, References to the Violin in . . . . . . . . 5 Santo, Giovanni . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172 Sanzo, Milan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172 Saraband, Moorish . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Sardagna, Counsellor Von, his contribution to Jacob Stainer's history . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 276 Sardi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172 Saunier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253 Savart, his paper on the construction of bow instruments . . . . 234 Sawicki . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 Saxon Fiddle, in the Cottonian MSS. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 Scandinavian origin of the Violin, alleged . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Scheinlein, Johann Michael . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 Scheinlein, Mathias F. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 Schell, Sebastian . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 Schlick . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 Schmidt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 Schnoeck, Egidius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253 Schonfelder, Johann A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 Schonger, Georg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 Schonger, Franz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 Schorn, Johann, an excellent maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Schorn, Johann Paul . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Schott, Martin, Lute-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Schuler, Dr. Johann, his novel, "Jacob Stainer" . . . . . . . . 276 Schwartz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Schweitzer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Scott, Sir Walter, on Music and Fiddles . . . . . . . . . . . . 446 Scroll, A Wandering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 455 Sellas, Matteo, Lute-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172 Serafino, Santo (Sanctus Seraphin), famed for exquisite finish; German and Italian models; excellent varnish and handsome wood, but style inferior, and lacking originality . . . . . . 172 Shaw, Dr., his "Travels in the East" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 Shaw . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 Silvestre, Hippolyte . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 Silvestre, Hippolyte Chretien . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 Silvestre, Pierre, copyist of Stradivari, of high order and exquisite finish; fellow worker with Lupot and Gand . . . . . 253 Simon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 Simonin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 Simpson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 Simpson, Dr. Christopher, Anecdote of . . . . . . . . . . . . . 423 Sivori, Camillo, his high artistic career . . . . . . . . . . . 392 "Skit," A musical . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 425 "Slab-back" and "Whole-back," The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 32 Smith, Henry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 Smith, Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 Smith, William . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 Sneider, Josefo; many of Girolamo Amati's instruments attributed to this maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 Socchi, Vincenzo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 Socquet, Louis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 "Sonata del Diavolo," Tartini's . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 427 Sonatas, Earliest appearance of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 379 Sorsana . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 Sound-bar, oblique position of, 35; its purpose and character . 36 Sound-holes, crescent-shaped, 22; of Gasparo and Amati, 80; shape and importance of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Sound-post, its purpose and service, 36; its position, 37; methods of fixing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 Spohr, Louis, Violinist and composer; his Quartettes and Duets . 408 Spohr and his Guarneri . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 478 Spohr and the Collector . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 480 "Sports and Pastimes," Strutt's . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 Stadelmann, Daniel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Stadelmann, Johann Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Stainer, Andreas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 280 Stainer, Jacob, the greatest of German artists; his popularity; Sir John Hawkins' estimate of his work; originality and peculiarity of his model; variation in style; his "Elector Stainers;" his personal history, by Herr S. Ruf and Counsellor Von Sardagna; Dr. Johann Schuler's novel, "Jacob Stainer;" his marriage; his imprisonment for heresy; his poverty and sad death; his numerous followers and libellists . . . . . . . 271-280 Stainer, Markus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 280 Statlee . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 Staugtinger, Mathias . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 280 Steininger, Franz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281 Steininger, Jacob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281 Sterne, Laurence, on Hobby-horses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 331 Stolen "Strad," A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 449 Storioni, Lorenzo, follower of Guarneri del Gesu; his freak as to placing the sound-holes; his Violins roughly finished, but valued for acoustical properties . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 Stoss . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281 Stoss, Martin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281 Stradivari, Antonio, date of birth, 178; Paolo Lombardini's pamphlet on his life, 185; his marriage, and pedigree of his family, 178-179; affinity of his work with that of his master, Niccolo Amati, 182; second epoch, and change of style, 189-190; possessor of the tools and models of N. Amati, 184; his house at Cremona, 187; extracts from Desiderio Arisi, 185; Vincenzo Lancetti on the purchase of Stradivari's models and tools by Count Cozio di Salabue; the letters of Paolo and Antonio Stradivari, junior, in reference thereto, 188; splendid character of his varnish, 198; Cardinal Orsini's and the Duke of Modena's patronage, 190-191; the "Long Strad," 195; his work for the Spanish Court and for the Grand Duke of Tuscany, 193; letter of Marquis Ariberti, 193; a "Concerto of Violins," 194; the "golden period," 197; the "Betts Strad," 466; variations in qualities of wood, 200; the "Dolphin Strad," 200; Prince Eugene and war in Cremona, 203; visit of Philip V. of Spain to Italy, and entry into Cremona, 204; Stradivari's instruments for presentation to Philip 204, and to the Archduke Charles of Austria, 206; letter of Lorenzo Giustiniani to Stradivari, 206; characteristics of the instruments of his later period, 209-211; place of his burial, 212-214; indifference of Stradivari's own townsmen as to his remains, 215; further notice of Count Cozio di Salabue relative to the Stradivari reliques . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 359 Stradivari, Francesco, son and successor of Antonio; excellent character of work, age, and date of death . . . . . . . . . . 217 Stradivari, Omobono, successor to the business of his father Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218 Stradivari, Paolo, cloth merchant; his correspondence with Count Cozio di Salabue relative to the Stradivari reliques 219, 360-364 Straube . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281 Strauss, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281 Stregner, Magno, Lute-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 Strings, Italian and other, causes of variation in the quality of; how to choose them; material used in their manufacture; experiments on the tension of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43-56 Sursano, Spirito . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219 T Tanegia, Carlo Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219 Taningard, Giorgio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219 Tarisio, Luigi, and his collection of Violins; his singular career and character, and painful end . . . . . . . . . . 344-356 Tarr, W. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328 Tartini, Giuseppe; his musical compositions; high opinion of Dr. Burney on . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 388 Tartini, Signor, on the treatment of the Violin . . . . . . . . 501 Taylor, meritorious work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Tecchler . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219 Tedesco . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 Tension and pressure of Violin Strings . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 Testore, Carlo Antonio, excellent work . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 Testore, Carlo Giuseppe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 Testore, Giovanni . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 Testore, Paolo Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 Teutonic origin of the Violin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Thackeray on Orchestral Music . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 471 Theress, Charles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 Thibout, Jacques Pierre, a well-known dealer, and excellent workman; his relations with Luigi Tarisio . . . . . . . . . . 254 Thomassin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 Thompson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Thorowgood, Henry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Three-stringed Violins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 Tieffenbrucker, Leonardo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 Tieffenbrucker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281 Tielke, Joachim, Lute and Guitar-maker; magnificent ornamentation of his work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281 Tielke, Joachim, Viol and Violin-maker, examples in the Kensington collection . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282 Tilley, Thomas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Tobin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Tobin, Richard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Todini, Michele, his musical clock-work, and new mode of stringing the Violono . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 Tononi, Carlo Antonio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221 Tononi, Carlo, excellent work and varnish . . . . . . . . . . . 221 Tononi, Felice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Tononi, Giovanni, high-class work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Tononi, Guido . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Traditional History of Cremonese makers (see Ceruti, Enrico) . . 108 Trapani, Raffaele . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Trinity in Unity, Musical illustration of . . . . . . . . . . . 423 Troubadours and Trouveres . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 Tywersus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 U Urquhart, Thomas, high-class work and excellent varnish . . . . 329 V Vaillant, Francois . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254 Valentine William . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Valenzano, G. M. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 "Varnish, Dodd's" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 302 Varnish, Italian, that of the several Schools compared . . . . . 70 Venetian Catlins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46 Veracini, Solo Violinist, 208, 379; J. B. Volumier, and Stradivari . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207 Veronese, Paolo, his "Marriage at Cana" . . . . . . . . . . . . 375 Veron, Pierre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 Vetrini, Battista . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Vibrecht, Gysbert . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 Vieuxtemps, Henri, his Concertos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 396 Vimercati, Paolo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Viola da Braccia, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 Viola di Bordone, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 270 Violin, construction of the, 27; three-stringed, 25; four-stringed, 26; acoustical properties of the . . . . . . . 30 Violin, Tartini on the art of Playing . . . . . . . . . . . . . 501 Violins, from a medical point of view . . . . . . . . . . . . . 424 Violin, The, and its Votaries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 331 Violinist, An indefatigable . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 495 Violono, or Bass-Viol, of Gasparo da Salo . . . . . . . . . . . 24 Viols, Ancient, by Hieronymus Brensius . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Viols in connection with Madrigal and with Church Service . 21, 377 Viotti, Giovanni Battista, high character of his compositions . 390 Voel, E., excellent character of work . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282 Vogel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282 Vogler, Johann Georg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Voigt, Martin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Voleme (Volumier), G. B., musical director to the King of Poland, and Stradivari's set of twelve Violins . . . . . . . . 207 Vuillaume, Claude Francois . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 Vuillaume, Jean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 Vuillaume, J. B., a prolific maker and excellent workman, 255; his association with Tarisio, and purchase of his collection . 356 Vuillaume, N. F., maker and connoisseur . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 Vuillaume, Sebastien . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 W Wagner, Joseph . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Wamsley, Peter, high-class English maker . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Wandering Scroll, A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 455 Waterloo Purse, and _Stradivarius_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217 Weickert . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Weigert . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Weiss, Jacob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Wenger, G. F. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Wenger, Lute-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Widhalm (or Withalm), Leopold, a high-class imitator of Stainer 283 Wieniawski, Henri . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 396 Willaert, Adrian, the "Father of the Madrigal" . . . . . . . . . 21 Wise, Christopher . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Wish, A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 495 Withers, Edward . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 329 Withers, Edward (2) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 330 Witting, J. G. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 "Wolf-notes" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36 Woods, various, used in the manufacture of the Violin . . . . . 31 Wyemann, Cornelius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Y Young, father and son, and Purcell's catch . . . . . . . . . . . 330 Z Zannetto, Viol-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Zanola . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 Zanoli . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223 Zanotti, A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223 Zanti, Alessandro . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223 Zanure, Viol-maker . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223 Zenatto . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 223 Zwerger, Antoni . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 The Gresham Press, UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, WOKING AND LONDON. The Violin and its Music BY GEORGE HART Illustrated with several Steel Engravings of Eminent Violinists. FORMING THE COMPANION VOLUME TO THE VIOLIN AND ITS FAMOUS MAKERS. "The broad range of interest in the book which appears at the very beginning, and the evident appreciation of the romantic, as well as the practical side of the question, shows that the man is not merged in the specialist, and that outsiders, as well as experts, may look to find amusement as well as instruction therein. The range of the book is of the widest."--_Saturday Review_. "A sufficient account is given of the various schools of composers and _virtuosi_ in the musical countries of Europe, from Corelli down to Vieuxtemps and Joachim. The author's judgment is in most cases fair and unbiassed, and his diction agreeably free from the current jargon of musical criticism.... The value of Mr. Hart's volume is increased by carefully engraved portraits of Corelli, Viotti, Paganini, and other masters."--_Times_. QUARTO EDITION . . . . . . . . . . 31/6 OCTAVO (without Portraits) . . . . 10/- EDITION DE LUXE TIREE SUR PAPIER WHATMAN. _Nouvelle edition d'environ 400 pages_. _Prix 70 francs_. ENRICHIE DE PLUS DE SOIXANTE GRAVURES. LE VIOLON: SES FAMEUX LUTHIERS ET LEURS IMITATEURS. PAR GEORGE HART. _TRADUIT DE L'ANGLAIS PAR ALPHONSE ROYER_. L'Edition in Octavo 12 francs. La nouvelle Edition soigneusement revue et augmentee de cet important ouvrage contient la liste descriptive de Luthiers la plus complete qui ait paru jusqu' ici: elle offre de plus au lecteur une notice circonstanciee sur ANTOINE STRADIVARIUS. L'auteur a eclaire cette notice d'un jour nouveau et y a jete un vif eclat par les details pleins d'interet qu'il a puises dans les manuscrits authentiques de Cremone et par les nombreux extraits qu'il a tires des pieces originales de la correspondance du grand artiste. Extrait du "Menestrel." "L'ouvrage tres important que voici est une traduction faite sur la cinquieme edition publiee en Angleterre. Je crois avoir rendu compte, quelques annees. Depuis lors, l'auteur a ameliore, agrandi, complete son oeuvre, et le volume superbe qu'il nous offre aujourd'hui parait devoir etre un texte definitif. "L'ouvrage, fort interessant, de M. Hart, le plus complet en son genre que nous connaissions en France, est divise en quinze sections ou chapitres. Dans la premiere section, l'auteur a essaye de tracer une histoire hypothetique du violon, histoire malheureusement impossible a faire a cause de son obscurite. Le chapitre consacre a la construction est plus solide. Puis viennent l'examen des procedes des luthiers des differentes ecoles: italienne, francaise, allemande et anglaise, et les biographies de ces luthiers (203 notices de luthiers Italiens, 160 pour les Francais, 158 pour les Allemands, 152 pour les Anglais). Enfin, la treizieme section a pour titre: _le Violon et ses admirateurs_, la quatorzieme presente une _Equisse du progres et du developpement de l'art du Violon_, et la quinzieme, dont l'utilite est moindre, est consacree a une serie d'anecdotes. "En resume, le livre de M. Hart est tres curieux, tres utile et fort interessant. Il ne me reste plus qu'a souhaiter que l'auteur nous donne maintenant une traduction d'un autre ouvrage, tres precieux, qu'il a publie recemment sous ce titre: _The Violin and its Music_ (Londres, Dulau, 1881, in 4o). Il nous aura rendu alors un double et signale service."--ARTHUR POUGIN. HART & SON, 28, WARDOUR STREET, LONDON, W.