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THE CREMONESE

TO EXPERTISE

HUNDREDS OF YEARS BEFORE ANDREAAmati and his sons developed the first vio-lins, musical instrument making was al-ready well established in Europe. During all

this time, and in some cases right through to the endof the 18th century (and very occasionally evenlater), most, if not all, handheld bowed and pluckedinstruments were constructed using variations of thesame basic system. Essentially, this involved fittingthe neck to the sides of the instrument (or in the caseof lute-type instruments, to the panelled back) be-fore aligning the neck and finalising the body out-line.

The objective of this pan-European system was al-ways the same: to allow the strings to run in astraight line along the fingerboard, over the bridgeto the tailpiece and endpin. Any soundholes cutthrough the belly's surface were then centred uponthis axis. As a result of this basic system, all hand-

held bowed and plucked instruments were con-structed with some degree of geometric imbalancebetween the treble and bass sides of their bodies. Vi-sually they may appear symmetrical, but they are al-most never mathematically symmetrical: they areasymmetrical (see drawing opposite and drawings onnext page).

With violins, the basic construction system alignedthe body and f-holes to the neck, rather than, as hasgenerally been the case since the beginning of the19th century, aligning the neck to the body and f-holes. As a result, all violins made in the first 200years of the instrument's history are to a greater orlesser degree asymmetrical. Connoisseurs often reg-ister such details intuitively without fully realisingwhat is helping them to assess the age of a particularinstrument, just as they might intuitively assess theauthenticity and extent of an instrument's wear andpatina.

VIOLIN CONNOISSEURSHIP

In the second half of a two-part guide toviolin connoisseurship, ROGER HARGRAVEexplains why knowledge of classical Cremonesemakers can unlockthe secrets of so many European violins of that period and beyond

KEY

STRADIVARI

STAINERGUARNERI

BALESTRIERIBALESTRIERIMITTENWALD

DA SALòGRANCIANO

TURINTESTORE

AMATI

BERTOLOTTIVUILLAUME MONTAGNANA

CAMILLI

BRESCIAROGERI TONINI ROMEBOLOGNA

GAGLIANO

TYROL

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The Amatis' inside mould is ofsingular importance to the process ofidentifying classical Cremonese violins

DESPITE THE FACT THAT the early concept ofaligning the body and f-holes to the neck was ubiq-uitous in Europe, each school of instrument makingdeveloped its own idiosyncratic method of makingthe sides or ribs and attaching and aligning the neck(see drawings on page 53). In addition, each schooljealously protected and controlled its unique methodof construction, and within each school the favouredmethod was replicated, often for centuries. We canliken this pattern of development to the evolution ofthe ancient four-wheeled wagon that would havebeen pulled by horses or oxen. Because all fourwheels were originally fixed to a rigid frame, thesewagons were extremely difficult to manoeuvre: theyhad to be dragged around corners. Then at somepoint it was realised that if the front two wheelscould be turned, the wagon might be manoeuvredmore easily. However, although this concept of wheelsteerage was easily understood and spread very rap-idly, in each settlement or area, wagon makers de-veloped their own idiosyncratic method of mountingand turning (usually) the front wheels. And this hascontinued until the present day. Indeed, although theconcept remains simple, most modern car makershave developed and continue to develop differentmethods of solving this age-old problem. Moreover,their experiments with such developments are al-ways carried out in extreme secrecy. And secrecy isalso an important element in the violin story.

A major reason for the variations in violin makers'working practices was the nature of European soci-ety, in particular the constant threat of war. Almosteveryone, especially artisans, lived close to or withinwalled cities, which despite their close proximity andlively commercial, political and social interaction,were often more isolated than many countries aretoday. Moreover, the artisans and tradesmen of eachcity jealously guarded the secrets of their professionthrough various guild-like institutions.

In violin making, perhaps the best examples of thiswere the Cremonese and Brescian schools. For abouta hundred years until the devastating plague of the1630s, these two instrument making schools existedalmost side by side. Both were highly productive and

The black lines inthis drawing indi-cate the optimalsymmetrical outlinethat all classical vi-olin makers wouldhave been trying toachieve. The redlines show how anoffset neck mighttwist the outlineout of shape. How-ever, the centre linestill bisects theneck, f-holes, bridgeand endpin exactly.

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both exported instruments throughout Europe. How-ever, although Brescia is only about 50km from Cre-mona, and although they were chasing the sameconcept, Brescian and Cremonese makers developedand continued to use entirely different methods ofmaking the sides or ribs of their instruments and ofattaching and aligning their necks. Accordingly, it isthe peculiarities of the Cremonese method of con-struction, and the particular features that thismethod engendered, that help experts distinguishCremonese violins from those of Brescian and otherEuropean schools. Fundamentally, the Cremonesemethod, which was almost certainly devised by An-drea Amati, involved the use of an inside mould.

ANOTHER FEATURE OF THE VERY earliest violin

making schools (and here again Cremona and Bres-cia are the best examples) was their tendency to pro-duce different and often highly individual designs ormodels. Considering their close proximity, differ-ences between the Cremonese and Brescian modelsare both obvious and extreme. However, after the Eu-ropean plague of the 1630s, the tendency to createand develop new models declined rapidly. The plaguekilled virtually every violin maker in Europe, sparingonly the finest maker of the time, Nicolò Amati some-thing for which we should all be eternally grateful.Even before the plague the demand for Cremoneseviolins was already well established, but from thistime on it rapidly became insatiable, and it quicklyoutstripped what Cremona could supply.

In these drawings of a viola da gamba (1), a guitar (2) and a lute (3), the dotted lines indicate the intended symmetrical out-line while the unbroken lines indicate the actual asymmetrical outline. In each case, the neck, soundholes and bridge remainon the centre line.

At this point it is worth mentioning that amongthe earliest European violin makers those of the Bres-cian school had considerable influence. Brescia was ahighly important centre of musical instrument man-ufacture and export. And craftsmen who came acrossBrescian instruments of the violin family sought toemulate those works, which in musical terms, alongwith those of Cremona, represented the cutting edgeof late Renaissance technology. Nevertheless, in spiteof the widespread nature of this early Brescian influ-ence, it was destined to be short-lived. The combina-tion of a growing preference for Cremonese works,coupled with the plague's decimation of the earlyBrescian school, largely stifled Brescia's immediateinfluence.

The Brescian school was capable of producingworks that, in addition to their musical qualities,were distinguished by their exceptional artistic and

aesthetic merit. As early as the 15th century (andprobably much earlier) makers were producing ex-quisitely decorative instruments in the city. However,in the formative years of the violin's development,the differences in production methods between Cre-mona and Brescia were reflected in the finish of theirrespective instruments. Many Brescian works hint atspeed and large-scale manufacture, whereas all ofCremona's pre-plague works suggest a more disci-plined and consistent process with strictly regulatedworking practices, and an emphasis on quality ratherthan quantity. However, this may be an illusion cre-ated by the Amati family's inside mould. Brescianmakers were clearly capable of producing works ofexceptional quality, but by employing their mouldthe Amati family were able to reproduce virtuallyidentical instruments over and over again. The Ama-tis' mould imparted a consistency of appearance andfunction that simply was not present in the work of

This page: Different ways of fitting necks for the vi-olin (A, the classical Cremonese method, and B, avariation of a method using wedges that was popu-lar in German-speaking schools) and the viola dagamba (C). The chosen method, which varied fromschool to school, was generally modified slightly fordifferent instruments. A school that used nails woulduse nails for gambas, violins and lutes, and a schoolthat used wedges employed wedges for each type ofbowed or plucked instrument that they were mak-ing. This was not always the case, however. Stainer isan example of a maker who employed one system(Cremonese) for violins and another (Venetian) forgambas. This may be because he learnt the methodsfor each instrument in different places.

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Cremona's rivals, especially those working in Bres-cia. Moreover, the mould allowed the Amati family tomake controlled modifications that they could laterretain or reject.

The long-term importance of the Amatis' insidemould cannot be underestimated. Without substan-tial changes it was adopted in turn by every maker ofthe classical Cremonese school, and for more thantwo centuries it was the salient feature of Cremoneseviolin making. Its use generated typical characteris-tics that are readily recognisable to violin connois-seurs and as a result, it is of singular importance tothe process of identifying classical Cremonese vio-lins.

The plague of the 1630s that decimated the Bres-cian school and killed almost all Europe's violin mak-ers left Nicolo Amati with a virtual monopoly.Nevertheless, the general collapse of social ordermeant that for almost a decade very few new violinswere produced. Subsequently, however, the demandfor Cremonese violins rapidly began to re-establishitself. At this point Nicolo Amati, with no sons ofworking age, was faced with a labour shortage, and to

The f-holes on this early Amati (left) and late Guarneri 'delGesù (right) may be starkly different in style, but the twoviolins share a virtually identical method of construction

It is the connoisseur's job tointerpret the interplay betweenthe construction method andan individual maker's stylisticinterpretation

satisfy the increasing demand he was eventuallyforced to employ non-family members. This newgroup of Cremonese makers was soon constructingviolins, initially bearing Nicolo Amati labels. But eventhis new labour force could not keep pace with theinsatiable demand for instruments of the violin fam-ily.

Despite the devastating effects of the plague on thebusiness, the tradition survived. The demand for vi-olins was quickly recognised and musical instrumentmakers of various disciplines began to build instru-ments of the violin family. This may have been a for-tunate development for European music, but iteventually led to the demise of both the Amati fam-ily and the generations of Cremonese makers thatfollowed. In almost every European town and city ofimportance, skilled artisans gradually took up violinmaking. Freed of many of the restrictions that hadcontrolled artisans before the plague years, they sim-ply copied Cremonese designs. And they copied themin much the same way that modern makers still copyclassical Cremonese works. In particular, they beganby copying the highly popular instruments of theAmati family. Eventually, they moved on to copy theworks of Stainer, followed later by those of Stradivariand finally the idiosyncratic works of Guarneri 'delGesu'.

WITH NEARLY EVERYONE COPYING Cremonese in-struments, the development of new models and pat-terns stopped almost entirely. By the end of the 17thcentury, any rules governing the design of violinswere almost certainly no longer being used. Even inCremona, instrument makers quickly learnt to copyand adapt successful designs rather than producetheir own. As Stewart Pollens wrote in The ViolinForms of Antonio Stradivari, 'Stradivari copied sec-tions of earlier outlines and modified other areas toproduce new shapes. Thus empiricism, rather than arigid system of geometry and proportion, typifiesStradivari's technique of design: Indeed, it might beargued that the Stradivari family, and possibly theBergonzis, were the last makers anywhere seriouslyto modify violin designs, empirically or otherwise.Aside from their methods of construction and design,there was one further important stage in the devel-opment of the violin, and it is one that is of particu-lar importance to the connoisseur.

Each new Cremonese maker initially worked withthe methods and designs of their teacher, but as theydeveloped into master violin makers themselves,

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they gradually developed a style of their own. Dur-ing the two centuries of the classical Cremoneseschool (c.1550-1750), Cremonese makers continuedto copy the Amati designs, occasionally, as in the caseof Stradivari, extending and refining them slightly.However, stylistically, by the first half of the 18th cen-tury, the Amati influence in Cremona was in mostcases nearly unrecognisable. Yet despite this, con-cealed beneath a veneer of stylistic details, the basicCremonese rules of construction, as established byAndrea Amati and his two sons, remained largely un-challenged and unchanged. For example, it is diffi-cult to imagine two more divergent styles than thatof a late Guarneri 'del Gesu' and an early Amati (seephotographs). Although working in the same imme-diate neighbourhood, they were separated by almost200 years. But when the instruments of these two

makers are scrutinised, it gradually becomes appar-ent that even with their glaringly obvious stylisticdifferences, the method of their construction is vir-tually identical. And this is true of all the classicalCremonese makers. Their basic method of construc-tion never changed in 200 years.

IN THE REST OF EUROPE, despite the predilectionto copy Cremonese violins, makers from each partic-ular school remained fundamentally true to themethod of construction they had learnt as appren-tices. Thus in England in the first years of the 18thcentury, Daniel Parker was making stylistically closecopies of an instrument by Stradivari while continu-ing to use construction methods specific to the Eng-lish school of Barak Norman and Nathaniel Cross (seephotographs on page 58). We see a similar phenom-enon in Germany in the middle of the 18th century

Another comparison of an early Amati instrument (left) and alate Guarneri 'del Gesù violin (right) shows that despite stylisticdifferences, the same basic construction method was retained

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with Gabriel David Buchstetter of Regensburg (seephotographs). He copied the outline and form of a1690s long-pattern Stradivari with considerable suc-cess. Nevertheless, the varnish and method of con-struction remained specific to his native school.

When I refer to methods of construction, I includesuch details as how the ribs or sides were put to-gether; how the linings were inserted and shaped; thetechnique used to fit the neck and establish the f-holepositions; whether or not locating pins were used;the method of arching and hollowing the plates; andthe method of marking and cutting the f-holes andscroll. Because each construction method creates fea-tures that are both unique and typical, it is reason-able to conclude that a violin's school can be definedor identified by its method of construction. Although

An early 18th-century violin by English maker Daniel Parker.He copied a Stradivari instrument but used constructionmethods specific to the English school of Barak Norman andNathaniel Cross.

it is not always possible to uncover

Another comparison of an early Amati instrumentand a late Guarneri 'del Gesù violin shows that de-spite stylistic differences, the same basic construc-tion method was retained the exact method of aparticular maker or school, the features engenderedby the method are often enough for connoisseurs toform an opinion.

Within each school, as was the case in Cremona, aseach new apprentice developed into a master violinmaker, they gradually developed a style of their own.I define style as including such features as cornerlengths and widths; the back and belly overhangs; theedge thickness; how the purfling mitres were fin-ished; the way in which the volutes and flutings of

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the scroll and f-hole wings were formed; and ofcourse the idiosyncratic ways in which each maker'stools left their marks.

Although these early violin makers appearearnestly inclined to change their style of working asthey matured, they were extremely unlikely tochange the method of construction they had beentaught as apprentices. And this leads us to anotherkey that can help unlock the secrets of violin identi-fication. Once you have established the school, iden-tifying individuals within that school is largely a caseof examining stylistic details. Construction methodsthus define schools, and stylistic details separate theindividuals within a school. There are, naturally, agreat many crossovers and exceptions to this generaldirective, but by and large it is this interplay between

Right, a mid-18th-century violin by Gabriel David Buchstetter. He was inspired by long-pattern Stradi-varis (such as the 1693 'Harrison', left), but used his native school's construction methods and varnish.

the construction method and an individual maker'sstylistic interpretation that forms the basis of visualexpertise. And, in essence, it is the connoisseur's jobto interpret this interplay and reach some form of ap-praisal.

AS TIME PROGRESSED after the plague of the1630s, through the 17th and 18th centuries, threegreat influences upon violin design were established.They were the Amati family, followed by JacobStainer and later by Antonio Stradivari. Othersplayed a minor role from time to time but throughoutthis period it was these makers who led the field.Their influence reached every corner of Europe andno important group or individual maker remainedunaffected.

183Understandably, the Amatis were the first to in-

fluence violin making in Europe. Their fame wasenormous and long-lasting, and they were sooncopied and even counterfeited - apart from those in-dividuals who were taught directly by Nicolo Amati.The Amatis influenced the Italian schools of Florence,Venice, Turin, Milan, Bolzano and Bologna. OutsideItaly, they were particularly influential in the Nether-lands, and later, towards the end of the 18th century,in England. It was only with the increasing vogue forStainer's instruments that the Amatis' star was even-tually eclipsed.

Where Stainer learnt his trade has still not beenestablished beyond doubt. However, not only did heuse the Cremonese method of construction (in par-ticular an inside mould), but at first he also closelyfollowed the Amati model in almost every respect.Whatever his provenance, Stainer's fame quickly out-grew that of the Amatis. But unlike the Amatis,Stainer's influence was apparently only indirect; heclaimed to have taught no one. The response of othermakers to the public demand for Stainer instrumentswas therefore all the more astounding. In Italy hismodel penetrated every important centre of violinmaking with the exceptions of Cremona, Brescia andMilan. Apart from the Klotz family in Mittenwald,who remained faithful to the Amati ideal, in Germanyand Austria Stainer's influence was almost ubiqui-tous. A typical scenario in the Low Countries was thatof Hendrick Jacobs and his pupil Pieter Romboutsworking in Amsterdam. Jacobs built beautiful instru-ments after the Amati pattern, but Rombouts gradu-ally adopted the Stainer model.

STAINER WAS A TRULY OUTSTANDING and highlyimportant maker whose work has been seriously un-dervalued for many decades. Perhaps because Stainertaught no one directly, his influence was always thatmuch weaker. His patterns were often copied and re-copied to the point of caricature. Unfortunately, itwas in England where the effect of 'Stainerisation'among serious makers was the most devastating.From the first years of the 18th century DanielParker's outstanding copies of Stradivari's instru-ments should have laid the foundations of a greatEnglish school. It was sadly not to be. Almost every18th century English violin is a copy of a Stainer or anAmati, with some makers, such as Dodd, alternatingbetween one and the other for their entire workinglives.

The ultimate insult to Stainer's memory, however,was paid by the factories of the late 19th century,

whose primitive Stainer copies almost beggar belief.In order to satisfy market requirements, millions ofpoor-quality replicas were produced. They owe littleto Stainer's good working practices and even less tohis good taste. Nevertheless, and this is why I men-tion them, even these hideous factory instrumentsconform to the rule that construction methods de-fine schools.

Stradivari inspired several makers outside Cre-mona during his lifetime, but it was after this deaththat the full extent of his influence was felt. With afew notable exceptions, it was not until the 19th cen-tury, when the French rediscovered the classical Ital-ian school, that 'Stainerisim' began to give way to`Stradivarism'. From then on it was Stradivari whoinspired the majority of violin makers.

Unlike Stainer, Stradivari did have pupils. He wasdirectly responsible for teaching at least two of hissons, Omobono and Francesco, and he may also havebeen involved in the tuition of Carlo Bergonzi andpossibly even Guarneri 'del Gesu'. Stradivari was alsocopied as badly as Stainer and the Amatis, but, attheir best, Stradivari-inspired works are full of skilland artistry. Since classical times Stradivari has beencopied more often, by exceptional violin makers,than any other maker and this is reflected in theprices that such instruments bring at auction: Lupot,Vuillaume, the Gaglianos, the Guadagninis, Rocca,Pressenda, Voller, Lott and Sacconi, to name but afew, all copied Stradivari with considerable success.

Some of these makers also successfully copiedGuarneri 'del Gesu'. His influence matured muchlater than that of Stradivari and with the possible ex-ception of his wife Catarina Guarneri and LorenzoStorioni, the classical period was long gone before hewas copied with gusto. Realistically, it was only afterPaganini's endorsement in the first half of the 19thcentury that Guarneri 'del Gesu' joined Stradivari inthe first rank. Unfortunately, in attempting to imi-tate his popular, but rather eccentric later works,most copyists have fallen disastrously short of themark. It might even be argued that Vuillaume, whowas so successful with his Stradivari models, neverreally captured the idiosyncrasies of Guarneri 'delGesu'.

And this is mainly due to Vuillaume's more accu-rate system of construction, something that isslightly less obvious in his Stradivari and Amaticopies.

184As I wrote in the first part of this article, there are

ways of becoming an established expert on minor na-tional schools or inexpensive instruments withouthaving to study classical Cremonese works. GüntherHellwig wrote his highly important work on theHamburg maker Joachim Tielke with little knowledgeor experience of classical Cremonese works. Thesame is true of Walter Senn's book about the life andwork of Stainer. Nevertheless, for anyone wishing tobecome proficient at instrument identification, theimportance of Cremona cannot be overestimated.Quite simply, because the influence of classical Cre-monese violins was almost ubiquitous, anyone whocan identify the works of the classical Cremonesemakers (even superficially) is already well on the waytowards a better understanding of all violins.