THE GLUE USED BY THE EARLY ITALIAN MAKERS--INSERTION OF PIECES OF WOOD
FOR REPAIRING LOST PARTS--REPLACING LOST RIB AND REPAIRING INTERIOR
WITHOUT OPENING WHEN POSSIBLE--SECURING LOOSE LOWER RIB TO END
BLOCK--DIFFERENT METHODS--TREATMENT OF WORM-HOLES--FIXING ON GRAFT ON
NECK.
Here, before proceeding further, it may be as well to call attention
to the kind of damage done by the atmosphere. We speak of the glue
perishing. Under most circumstances this will not occur, but under
exceptional ones it will. If good in the first instance, it will be
perfectly sound and strong as ever at the end of three hundred years.
I have found this to be so in the work of Gasparo da Salo and his pupil,
Giovanni Paolo Maggini, besides other makers nearly contemporary. What
particular kind of glue they used I am unable to say, possibly they
did not know very much more themselves beyond what they believed was
the best obtainable in their day and city. When the perishing has
occurred there must have been very much moisture in the atmosphere of
the locality in which the violin rested for some time, as the best glue
will absorb the most moisture before losing its firmness, or power of
adherence. Prolonged exposure to damp allows chemical change to take
place and then all adhesive quality is lost; when dry air afterwards
attacks it, the parts of the instrument that should have been held
firmly together are released, with results that may be serious in
degree according to the position of the part affected.
To continue the consideration of the repair of a violin that has been
constructed with grooves for holding the ribs. A long and troublesome
piece of work would be the loosening and taking away of the fragments
of rib inserted in the groove and cut away by some repairer from the
rest or standing rib; it is therefore preferable in ordinary and neat
repairing to clear the parts that may be ragged or begrimed, firstly,
by washing with a stiff brush of appropriate size and wiping with a
clean cotton rag repeatedly; when the rag ceases to be soiled or
discoloured after wiping, the parts may be taken as fairly clean. A
sharp knife will take off any projections that may be prominent and
prevent the proper placing of the rib in position; if the
irregularities give indication of fitting well, the parts may have at
their approaching edges a touching with strong, hot glue, and the
cramps with protection applied as before for other joinings.
The probabilities, however, are, that through bad treatment, added to
wear and tear, the parts will not fit under any circumstances, then
the only course will be to make an even surface at the part broken away,
and then fit a piece of fresh wood therein. If the aperture made is
not of large extent and not wide, or more than the thickness of an
average piece of veneer is required, then the fresh wood need not be
bent, but cut neatly for fitting, and after glueing, as usual, slipped
in with a part projecting beyond the surrounding surface. When quite
dry it may be pared down carefully with a sharp knife, or if not
manageable on the curve of the rib, a chisel of size according to the
amount of room; being a narrow slip, after the colouring down and
varnishing has taken place, it will be but slightly noticeable. The
same treatment can, of course, be adopted for either upper or lower
part of the rib; the middle rib position will give the most trouble,
owing to its concavity, but care and patience will overcome the
difficulties of the situation. Should there have happened an accident
by which a hole of some extent is rent in the ribs--either upper, lower,
or middle--it is not absolutely necessary that the instrument be opened
to accomplish the repair; bear in mind the advice given before, not
to open a violin which has been in good going order if the repair can
be effected without.
As we are presumably working on disabled violins that are valuable,
perhaps old friends, or interesting specimens of a particular school,
to select the best mode of restoration is our aim. For this purpose
we will call to our aid some low class violin, new or old, that is of
no value except for our purpose. If several are within reach we can
select one with wood that matches as near as possible the one under
process of restoration. Being already bent to shape, a portion may be
found somewhere about it, that with a little exercise of judgment can
be cut out to shape, and as in manner pointed out before, be placed
over the aperture of the fracture. Care must be taken that it quite
covers the part, while being likely to fit sufficiently well as regards
figure or curl and direction of grain. The sides cleanly cut should
not be quite vertical with the general plane, the inner surface being
a shade smaller than the outer, thus enabling the operator, with a
little pressure, to insert it, when glued, quite neatly. No
instructions or suggestions with regard to fitting will counterbalance
clumsiness of handling. In operations of this kind, delicacy of
handling equal to anything required in watch repairing will be
obligatory, that is if restoration of a high class is intended.
It would be impossible to deal with, touch upon, or even to recount
every possible injury to a violin that might be repaired without the
removal of the upper table, but there are still some remaining that
will be worth considering, if only for the purpose of restraining the
tendency to open the instrument upon too trivial a pretext. One
instance occurs to memory at the present moment, in which a violin,
the constant companion and closest friend of its owner, met with an
accident that seemed to him well-nigh total destruction, at any rate,
necessitating much renewal with undoing and plastering up of fractures.
To the fiddle physician it was promptly taken, carefully scanned, and
the owner told that it would be all right in a few days. Will it have
to be taken all to pieces? asked the anxious owner. Not if it can be
possibly helped, was the reply. The violin was called for in due time,
and in answer to inquiries it was fetched and seen to be in as good
going order as before the time of the accident. There was no apparent
evidence of damage, no sign of fracture or any neatly-laid patches,
there were the ribs as sound as when new, no cracks to be seen. How
did you manage that? said the owner, and you say there was no necessity
to take the front off? Easier far, replied the repairer, the more there
is left undisturbed the more assistance will these parts give you
during the progress of restoration, and as you seem curious and
desirous of solving the mystery of this renovation I will relate how
it was accomplished. You are no doubt fully aware that your violin is
of a size and shape well-known in the trade as a "Strad pattern;" well,
there are thousands of violins in any number of degrees of quality
similar in form and size, in fact, for us modern makers there are too
many about. Catching the peculiarities of pattern with my eye at a
glance, the difficulties to be overcome were not very numerous or great.
I saw there was no reunion of parts of the ribs to be thought of, as
they had gone, and your violin being a modern copy of ordinary
pretensions, it would not serve our purpose to join four-fifths of new
rib to the remainder, and so to make a clean and satisfactory renovation
a fresh rib would best answer. Taking down from a shelf a number of
loose parts of violins put aside for such occasions as the present,
I soon found a middle rib that matched in most particulars those of
your violin. It had the additional advantage of being better for the
keeping, as regards colour or looking less new.
The first proceeding was to clear out all the useless fragments of the
spoiled rib, search every corner and see that there were no splinters
left, and remove projecting particles of glue. All edges that were to
come in contact with the fresh rib were washed, and where permissible,
the surfaces made even by a slight levelling, finely shaving them with
a sharp tool. The fresh rib was then tried, and being of full size and
requiring more than the least pressure to get it placed, some little
shaving down here and there was found necessary, and when done it was
tried again carefully and repeated perhaps three or four times, when
all parts seemed to fit sufficiently well. Each time the rib was
inserted there was, of course, nothing projecting whereby it might be
withdrawn; to accomplish this, a bent wire of sufficient strength
passed through the most distant of the two sound holes gave it a push
out again. When the piece was found to fit with accuracy, little
remained to do beyond glueing the edges that were to come together,
and after seeing that every part was in right position, the screw cramps
were applied with sufficient force and no more, the superfluous glue
wiped away and the whole left to itself. When sufficient time had been
allowed for drying, the cramps were removed, a little cleaning of parts
effected and the fresh work varnished in a manner so as to match nearly
as possible with the rest of the instrument, and there you have your
violin with a fresh rib inserted without removing anything but the
damaged part. It was really, as you may have perceived, the easiest
way of working the thing, there being no secondary process to be gone
through, nothing but cramping down, varnishing and finishing off.
Another instance comes to my mind of what can be done in the way of
alteration of the interior without removing the upper table. It came
within my own experience many years back, and the violin was one owned
by myself at the time. It had got into a condition not unfrequently
seen after bad repairing, that of the fingerboard sinking down too near
the table through absence of proper support or sufficient grip of the
end of the table where the neck is inserted. Being unable to attend
to the matter myself at the time, I sought the aid of a friend living
close by, a clever amateur violin maker and mechanical constructor of
other things beside. He was not very long setting matters right, and
my violin seemed in no danger of further getting into disorder from
the same cause. I asked him how he had managed the rectification of
the matter; did he take the upper table off? "Oh no, without that. I
simply opened or loosened the left side of the table about and above
the upper corner, then, having cut and glued a slight thin wedge-shaped
piece of wood, through the narrow opening caused by the loosening of
the table, I passed it on a thin knife long enough to reach to the upper
block, between which and the part of the upper table which was not
holding I carefully thrust it and tucked it in, finally glueing and
cramping again the part of the table that I had purposely loosened."
This was a clever operation, successful but very risky, and not to be
lightly undertaken by anyone without much experience and even natural
ability for mechanical adaptation of means to an end. There was much
danger, from the narrowness of the approach to the work from the side
opening, of missing the mark and dropping the piece of wood with great
difficulty of recovery, and, further, the chance of cracking the upper
table by straining the opening for the admission of knife and wedge
of wood. I heard of the violin but a few days since, and have no reason
to suppose there has been occasion to have any further repairs done.
Among other mishaps occurring at times, and which from their position
seem difficult to remedy, is that of the lower rib becoming detached,
or losing its hold on the block; this is more liable to take place when
there is a join running up and past the tail pin hole. Both sides may
be loose or one only. When, as in a great many of the old Italian violins,
the rib is continuous, it very seldom gets detached. Here the advantage
of simplicity of construction is made evident. The rib being of one
piece running round the lower end right past the tail pin was not, as
too often supposed, done for a saving of time by one operation, but
for strength and neatness. When in two parts, sometimes with a piece
of purfling inserted--each side is subject to damage either by the
tampering with the tail pin, the nut above, or during repeated removals
of the upper table. Exposure to damp will, as a matter of course, affect
the original glueing of these parts as soon as any other. The detachment
from the block may remain unnoticed for some length of time, until
getting worse by degrees one part may be seen to be lifted or warped
away from the join. If without this appearance suspicion is aroused
in some way as to looseness, it can be verified or not with little
trouble by tapping with a felt-headed piano-hammer, when the sound,
which should be quite solid, will, on the contrary, be rattling.
Seemingly the repair of this part is an awkward matter from the absence
of any purchase for pressing the parts and retaining them in position
when freshly glued. The difficulty is more apparent than real, as there
are several ways of overcoming this obstacle. To begin with one. The
tail pin will, of course, be removed; if fitting rather tightly and
of good length, use may be made of it.
As usual all the parts to be glued must be cleansed by a brush and clean
water, sopping up the moisture after each application, pressing
repeatedly the loose parts until they seem to be clean enough. A piece
of soft pine or poplar will now be cut that will be just wide enough
to go easily over the parts lying over the block and which of course
cover all the loose parts that require fixing: it may be a trifle under
a quarter of an inch in thickness. One side must be shaped to fit the
parts over the block when pressed against them and should be a sort
of mould. A hole will now be pierced to admit the cylindrical part of
the tail pin, or if not long enough, a made substitute with a similar
rim. It should be tried by passing it through to the tail pin hole,
and if it fits tight enough to sustain itself against some pulling we
can proceed. The fit should be close enough so that when the peg is
passed through the hole in the mould and the latter pressed by this
means against the rib or the two parts on to the block, all should be
held firmly in position. Taking them apart again, strong glue should
be applied by a brush to the surfaces that will meet or be worked in
as when the cleansing was going on. The peg and the mould--with a piece
of paper on its face to prevent adhesion--may then be pressed in to
hold tight until hard and dry. The same method may be pursued with the
exception that in place of the peg a screw--if one is to hand large
enough--may be inserted. In this case it should be a very loose fit
to the hole, the grip will be obtained by rolling up a piece of paper
and inserting it in the tail pin hole, the screw can then be used against
this inside without damaging the block.
Another way of accomplishing the desired result will be by a stout
leather strap and buckle passed round over all the ribs of the
instrument; the same sort of mould will be used and applied in the same
manner. The strap will need holding in position at the upper or neck
end over the button, a string over the fingerboard will be sufficient;
at the other end over the mould a wedge of soft wood according to size
will enable the pressure towards the block to be regulated. Another
contrivance with the same mould, for this must always be used, is by
getting a wire with a turned or screwed end fitted with a head or nut,
the other end can be bent to right angles, but not too much length used
or it will not go through the tail pin hole. When in position, having
been passed through the hole in the mould, the right angled or bent
end will catch against the inner surface of the block, the head or nut
being then screwed round will tighten and press the mould towards the
block with enough grip for the purpose if all the rest is in proper
order.
Should these contrivances not be to hand or are found inconvenient,
yet another method is that of using the screw-cramp. A portion of
mill-board or cork being placed to protect the parts of the upper and
lower table between which the end block is situated, the screw can be
turned tight enough to allow of a wedge of wood being inserted between
the back of the cramp and the mould without risk of shifting; it can
then be left until dry and hard.
Occasionally there will be not only the detachment from the block, but
there will be the accompaniment of a split in the rib. There will be
in this instance a preliminary cleansing of the split and joining
together before proceeding with the other part. The reason for doing
this is that the pressure on towards the block is apt to widen instead
of closing the crack. The most usual way of mending a crack, or there
may be more than one, is by the use of a small hand vice. A piece of
stout card placed between the teeth of the vice to prevent an imprint,
the part to be joined will, after cleaning and glueing, be brought
closely as possible together and the vice screwed up. For this process
the help of another person will be almost absolutely necessary, as two
hands will be required for holding the parts together while the second
person holds the vice and turns the screw to order. When dry and
unscrewed the parts joined will require a little scraping of the
superfluous glue, washing away at a thin part as this is would be
dangerous; if brought together neatly the rib can then be pressed on
the block in the manner before explained.
The same process will be gone through when a portion of fresh rib has
to be inserted at this part, owing to loss of a piece through violence
or the ravages of the worm. In the latter case searching inquiry should
be made with a pointed wire or pin and the direction of the boring
operations ascertained, as it may be necessary to insert a larger piece
than was originally intended to avoid a large smash or general collapse
at the part where the greatest strength should be. There is often too
great a tendency shown in repairing, especially in preparation for the
market, as, for instance, when an old master has been unearthed in some
farmhouse or out of the way place on the Continent, to make a clean
sweep of a somewhat riddled part, the repairer trusting too much to
his imitative powers on new wood with new varnish, and we may say with
new ideas on old facts; it is seldom that the result is far from hideous.
Better trace the tortuous course of a whole family of worms and fill
up with a cement or plugging than, as is too often the case, cut a huge
slice away, for if so the instrument according to the extent begins
to assume a composite character, it may be ten out of twelve parts gem
of an old master and two parts modern trash, hateful to the eye of the
connoisseur.
While touching upon the subject of worm-holes, a few words more may
not be out of place when contemplating the ravages of these voracious
creatures. Almost all devotees to the "gentle art" of fiddling have
a great horror of the possible presence or the ungauged depths of the
mysterious tunnellings the entrance or exit to which will cause a start
of dismay in a searcher after the beautiful, when, in an otherwise
perfectly preserved specimen of art by one of the giants of old, his
eye alights upon that sharply defined circular hole, cut with no
uncertainty of purpose, but with a ruinous intent, for it is business
with the boring party to consume the whole, if possible, at its leisure
and in quietude. This last is an important item in the consideration
of the circumstances under which the "gem of art, old master, Cremona,
real Strad," or whatever title the wooden structure may have been
sailing under. Those who have suffered much from the Italian
fiddle-hunting mania--a condition mostly chronic or quite
incurable--but who may have kept their "considerating cap" well poised
on their head, will know that the worm-eaten fiddles are often devoid
of evidence of usage, sometimes even in the absolute sense of the term.
Such a one we may suppose before us now; after lying neglected for
generations, or since the time when it was bought by one of our
periwigged ancestors from the maker, perhaps after a little haggling
about the price, which most likely was one hundredth part of its
commercial value at present. It was placed many years since in its
present comfortable case, after being taken out of the old ragged
leather covered one, with the brass nails along its side. Tradition
has it that in long bye-gone days it used to hang suspended from a nail
in the oak panelling of the "old house at home," but that during a more
recent generation and less musical one, it was placed aside in the old
case, as being somewhat interesting from having been brought over to
England from some place in Italy during the reign of James II. Later
on it was taken from this old case, and placed in one of modern
construction, and occasionally was taken out for musical people to see,
some of whom expressed their admiration for its elegant form, others
for the singular transparency of its varnish. None had come forward
with the request to hear what it had to say for itself or what its tone
was. But the day came round at last when someone more inquisitive than
usual, by nature as well as by training, having inquired as to the
possibility of seeing the antiquity, was afforded the rare opportunity
and treat of seeing a perfectly preserved Cremona, nearly as possible
untouched; the connoisseur was informed that no one had been known to
have played upon it. The case is brought forward and opened, the violin,
with perhaps one very brown string dangling from it, is taken gently
up, the left hand encircling the neck, while the forefingers and thumb
of the right, hold the lower part near the tail-piece.
The violin is turned first one way, then the other, and sideways for
viewing the ribs and the beautiful play of light through the varnish,
the fine curl of the maple with the slightest movement, almost giving
an impression of hastily shifting from one row to another, in fact,
looking as if the wood were gifted with life. Steadily turning it about,
the connoisseur at last breaks out with the exclamation, this is the
most wonderful thing I have met with in my life, it is almost perfect,
practically new, looks, perhaps, but a dozen years old. What a
beautiful design, what colour, and splendid wood, both the pine and
maple, the workmanship, too, having that wonderful freedom of handling
which moderns find so impassable a barrier to success with their
"imitations of the antique!" Lost in admiration for some minutes, the
connoisseur's critical faculties after a while begin to assert
themselves, and he is on the look out for flaws or defects that may
mar the completeness of the whole; it might be a little more this or
that with advantage, not quite so fine in one respect, although perhaps
better in another than the one owned by his friend Smith; but oh! a
wormhole! that settles it, done for! perhaps the thing is riddled, or
even "honeycombed" in parts. The delight at finding a work of art in
apparently so perfect condition is succeeded by a more than
counterbalancing sense of frustrated hopes, schemes for acquisition
of the gem being dissipated at once by that small circular opening just
at the under part of the edging there near the corner. Our friend takes
his departure, but cannot help talking of the "find" to the dealer and
repairer of whom he purchases his strings. This person takes another
view of the affair, and resolves to see the thing and perhaps acquire
possession, so that like his customer, he gets permission to inspect
the violin. It is brought out as in the other instance and he turns
it about, gives it a sly pinch here and there, looks for any light
coloured dust or powder inside and does not see any, a shake or two
with the same result. The subject of parting with the instrument at
a fair price is at length broached to the owner, who would like to know
what Mr. ---- would be prepared to give for it, but this party means
business and not valuation gratis for the owner; he therefore dilates
upon the difficulties attending the keeping of a large stock of such
articles, besides the thing having been bored so much by worms can never
take its place again among prominent examples of the maker, and it would
want a lot of playing upon even if possibly well restored. Mr. ----
finally departs as owner of a finely preserved Cremona violin, not
exactly for a "mere song," but a few judiciously selected sentences
and fewer pounds. Out of the house his steps are lighter and swifter
as he gets nearer his premises. When arrived he takes it to the
repairing room; removing it from the case he again examines it, and
with a smile says to his chief repairing help--here, what d'ye think
of that? This workman, who has not studied as an enthusiastic
connoisseur during the many years of his working on the premises, takes
it up, looks it well over, and then observes--"well, at first I thought
it was a good modern copy, but now if I don't think it's a real one!
Well, I never! it is, too! look at that stuff all over it." This was
his manner of criticising varnish when it seemed to him of good quality.
"I would like to have some of that! a worm-hole though. Don't know how
far that goes." "We'll soon see," says the other. After a few turns
over again amidst remarks of admiration expressed in different ways,
the fiddle is brought into a good light and preparations made for
opening it. "Why, I don't think it's ever been opened before," says
one. "Certainly not," says the other. "Now," says the dealer, "you had
better do it," and the workman proceeds thus--first removing the
tailpiece and with a "post setter" lifting the sound post out carefully
through the right sound hole, he removes the tail pin, and holding the
instrument to let as much light as possible into the interior, looks
through the pin hole and observes--"No patch in this, Mr. ----, fresh
as a new-laid egg--original bar too,--however, let's go ahead." The
fiddle is then laid face downwards on a cushion or soft pad and held
in position with the extended palm of the hand. The operator then takes
what has been once in use as a table knife, but is now thin and smooth
with wear, keeping the left hand firmly in position and the knife in
the other, he casts his eye round for any portion that may seem looser
or more lightly glued than the rest. It has been very neatly done
however, and one part seems as good as another. "Stop a moment," says
his companion, "let's have another look inside, maybe we shall see how
the worms have been going about by the light passing through."
It is taken again to a window; the sun fortunately is streaming in and
so enables master and man to proceed under favourable conditions. The
dealer patiently turns the violin about so that the rays of the sun
may penetrate wherever possible through the material; after a while
he hands the violin to his workman--"you have a look, James, I cannot
see any traces--I don't think the worm has gone very far, seemingly
only a short distance from the opening." James looking again, and
coming to the same conclusion, the violin is again taken to the
operating table and the knife taken in hand.