Chapter XX: Modern Violin Makers

Never have makers of the leading instrument been more numerous. The mystery and romance of that wonderful tone, enclosed within the apparently simple, box-like affair called the violin, has proved an irresistible attraction, and the reward awaiting those who discover the connection and its utilisation as in past times, has fired the zeal of honest builders, and drawn to the art a host of amateurs, experimenters, and theorists. Never has the violin been more earnestly considered at every point; the material for its construction selected with greater care, or workmanship executed with more deliberate attention to tone. The modern builder may justly claim the title of artist and, but for the lingering miasma of exploded theories, have much reason to congratulate himself.

But his troubles do not always come from those outside the pale. Within his ranks is a small section, large by virtue of their insistent clamour, upon whose shoulders the mantle of Stradivari has fallen; those who have discovered the “secret” of his tone and varnish!--not, we may remark, for the first time in fiddle history. Fortunately the green-eyed monster is rampant among them; each is impatient of the claims of the other. Their amateurs are tarred with the same brush, while theorists indulge their bitterness and sarcasm in letters to the fiddle Press. Thus, like the famous cats, are they likely to destroy each other, and bring to naught their cupidity and ability to trade upon prevailing ignorance.

It is the fashion to consider that the mere maker of a violin cannot, with much authority, tell the player anything about tone. To some extent this is due to the ridiculous claims of the mountebanks; to the wearers of the Stradivarian mantle. I admit the opinion is fairly general, and I also admit the claims of the great experts and connoisseurs as unequalled judges of tone. For obvious reasons they would give a fairer criticism on the tone of Joseph Guarnerius, for example, than Joseph would have been able to render on the tone of his contemporaries. But is the connoisseur capable of creating the tone which he judges with such accuracy? He is not. It is a feat entirely beyond his powers, just as it is beyond his power to fashion the replica of a violin upon which is exercised his skilful criticism. The creation of tone is a work belonging to the maker of the violin, and his experience of the subject differs from that of the experts and judges. His work fixes upon him a set of obligations and responsibilities with which connoisseurs and players never come in contact. He has, so to speak, an inside knowledge, while that possessed by others is, in its very nature, superficial; that is to say, they judge, hear, and use the tone of a violin, but remain in ignorance as to the process of its creation. This, of course, refers to the new fiddles. With the old the question of tone does not arise.

Criticism is frequently expressed upon the published claims of the modern makers, especially upon the brazen announcements of those to whom the minds of the old masters are as an open book! It has sometimes appeared to me that, in this age of brilliant commercialism, art is too frequently relegated to the status of a pastime devoid of serious purpose; unworthy of exploiting for the benefit of anybody; that the artist is also looked upon as a sort of drone within the industrial hive, or his occupation the laborious but useless pursuit of a kind of _ignis fatuus_. Yet art survives commercially, if only as veneer upon the surface of crude utility, proving beyond doubt that dilettantism, at least, still lives! Thus do art and commercialism come closely in contact, and if the artist would exist he must make his appeal after the only manner which the age understands and--advertise! However it may have been in other times, in these days patrons are too busy to make a “beaten path” in the wilderness. If they do not demand, they at least expect the vendor of the beautiful to announce himself.

With some makers the desire for favourable opinions upon tone amounts almost to a passion, leading them to all manner of mistakes. There is little objection in making public the opinions which may be expressed upon the tone of a violin, particularly if made in the Press, or some authority other than the player, but it is well to remember that the value of such opinions is thoroughly nullified by exploiting on their strength violins less worthy. “Testimonials” have been given for violins which, in the bulk, were tonally worthless. An instance is recent history, the makers profiting largely by exploiting examples which they seldom, if ever, duplicated--with results no less disastrous to themselves than to their credulous patrons. “Testimonials,” therefore, are worthless. They refer to one violin only, and not to others by the same maker; a statement which cannot be too often repeated, or too well remembered.

How obviously, then, is indicated the pathway to lasting success; to the satisfaction of all patrons; to fame built upon a solid tonal foundation.