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[-288-]
FIDDLES AND THE F1DDLE-TRADE.
No man who is not a fiddler can be fully aware of the virtues that reside in
a fiddle. To the majority of mankind, the thing is but a vibratory machine of
thin wood, furnished with tightened strings of catgut for the production of
musical sounds ; and the non-fiddling portion of the community are apt to
entertain a derogatory notion both of fiddles and fiddlers, as though there were
something unaccordant with the dignity of human nature in the production of
melody by shaking the elbow and twiddling the fingers. Not that they by any
means object to the result produced, or refuse to listen to the harmonious
combination of sounds which horsehair and resin elicit, or refrain at all times
from responding to the invitation of the music by tripping through the mazes of
the delightful dance but they wouldn't be seen to operate themselves ; they
could not submit to be themselves the fiddlers. A small section of society - a
dismal, dolorous, and drab-hearted community - go still further. With them, the
terms "to play the fiddle" and "to play the fool" are
synonymous ; the notes of a fiddle-string sound irreligiously in their ears, and
they look upon fiddlers as persons in highly equivocal, not to say dangerous
position. But the truth is, these people don't know what a fiddle is. I do, and
I have therefore the advantage of them.
I am the owner of a Straduarius which cost me nearly £200, and
is worth more than double the money. I have insured it in the
"Equitable" for the sum it cost - I couldn't rest in my bed till I had
done so. How it came [-289-] into my possession -
what risks I ran - what sacrifices I made to get it - what danger I was in of
losing it for ever : these are particulars which I may record at some future
time. At present, I am about to say something of fiddles and the fiddle-trade in
general, for the benefit of the world at large and my brother-amateurs (I am not
a professional musician) in particular.
All the world - at least all the musical world - knows that
the finest fiddles which the art of man has ever achieved, were made by the
Cremonese masters 200 and odd years ago. What all the world does not know so
well is the fact, that though these masters, Amati, Straduarius, and the rest,
made but comparatively few instruments, these have been somehow so miraculously
multiplied since their death, that at the present moment, when, according to the
ordinary course of things, they ought almost to have vanished from the earth,
they abound in such prodigious numbers, that there is not a dealer in one of the
great cities of Europe who has not always one or two specimens at least upon
hand to dispose of. I am of opinion that this is owing, not so much to the merit
of the Cremona fiddles, transcendently excellent as most of them are, as it is
to the existence of a class of men of whom the reader knows but little or
nothing. It is with the great fiddle-makers as with the Raphaels, Titians,
Correggios, and Rembrandts, in another art their works are so tremendously in
request among the connoisseurs, that they have to be manufactured anew to meet
the demand. It is the credulity and ignorance of the collectors which have
instigated the forgeries in both cases.
As your connoisseur in art is never a painter, though he
knows the constituents of megilp, and can daub a bolster-looking cloud ; so your
connoisseur in fiddles is never a performer, unless the ability to rasp a
quadrille or a polka is to entitle him to that designation. But the collector of
fiddles, it is probable, derives as much pleasure from his [-290-]
accumulations as his brother of the studios. He gloats over the torso of an old
instrument, and feels the same raptures on contemplating the graceful swell of
the "belly," as my lord-connoisseur does in the presence of an antique
marble or a Venus of Titian. And as there are rival connoisseurs in art who bid
and buy franticly against one another so are there rivals in the fiddle-mania
who do precisely the same thing. One consequence of this is, that fiddle-dealing
is a snug money-making profession, the more pretentious branch of which is
monopolised in London by a few old stagers, but which is carried on profitably
in all the large towns. There is, for instance, Old Borax, whom those who want
him 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 early
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 200 years ; and he will tell you who is the
fabricator of [-291-] 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 the failings, if it have any, of the instrument for which you are to pay a
round sum. As all 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 bench - 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 purfleing - 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 into
placid exclamations of delight upon the gracefulness of the swell - twang -
[-292-] 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 S-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 marvcllous 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 - Albati,
Guinarius, or Amati, as it 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.
[-293-] 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 master-pieces 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-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 productions 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 clown 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 Straduarius 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 [-291-]
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 de mowny. Vat you sall gif for
him?"
"Well, I can go as far as ten guineas,'' says the
customer.
"Ten kinnis is goot 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!" said he, "if I don't, who do
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 [-295-] 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 moshe. Dere is pad pfeedels two hunder years ole as
vell as goot vons: and dere is goot pfeedels of pad models, vitch is made ferv
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 an heir-loom. Of
those of them which have passed through his hands, he has got facsimiles 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.
Fiddle-making, as a branch of industry, is not a very
remunerative employment, and those who follow it in London are but few, and are
growing fewer. The whole number hardly amounts to half a score; and though there
are not wanting among them men who can manufacture excellent instruments, yet
the staple of their productions is a kind of regulation article, which does not
command a high price, and serves, for the most part, to supply the demands of
the counties and the colonies. The best English instruments, however, deserve a
better character than they bear. Some of the old provincial makers, needy men,
who perform the [-296-] entire work with their own
hands, have produced fiddles almost rivalling the old Cremonas in tone, and
excelling them in workmanship ; and I have seen some few specimens of this class
realise by auction fifteen times the amount paid for their manufacture. The
inundation of German fiddles, which may be bought new for a few shillings, has
swamped the 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 pawnbroker's stores, and block
out the light from his windows ; they hang on the tobacconist's 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 the gold ; and a fiddle worthy of an applaudling verdict from old Borax
is more difficult of acquisition than ever. So I shall keep my Cremona.