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.)



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.



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."