MODELLING THE BACK.
Pressing the plate firmly between the fixed rests on the bench, I
take three-quarter inch gouge, tool 22, and proceed to cut a channel
entirely round the wood to the depth of about one-twelfth of an inch
and about three-quarters of an inch broad from one-sixteenth or
rather less, of an inch from extreme edge, and through the purfling,
of course. The student will at once see that this is done as a base
from which is to spring the arching. There must be no attempt at a
_finished_ bend in going over this groove; but there must be the
greatest care observed in the cutting of it, as you are using the
tool following the outline, consequently, in the manner most liable
to encounter disaster in the shape of chips flying from that narrow
edging which it is your set business to leave as intact as possible.
After going over the wood in what I call "the guitar line," that is
to say, passing by for the present all the corners, I return to
them, in my hand gouge 24, three-eighths of an inch, and work them
out on the same basis exactly as the main groove. All this being to
my mind as shown in fig. 6, I take gouge 43, used before, and in the
roughest way possible, and avoiding any depth of cutting, I model
the back in its first stage, as shown in fig. 7, obtaining even here
a decently developed and somewhat truthful arching all over.
[Illustration: PLATE VI.]
[Illustration: PLATE VII.]
From which I advance to obtain the first smooth stage all over, as
in fig. 8, thus--with a square of No. 2-1/2 sandpaper folded in
half, so that in size it is about 2-1/2 inches all ways, and this
again folded crosswise, giving me a firm point as would be a rasp so
formed, I work out the corners, and all about them for, say, an
inch, until I get a beginning and an example of groundwork from
which to smooth down the whole. Then I take the cork rubber, tool
67, and a piece of sandpaper as last, rather larger than the one
just used, so that I can bend it firmly over both sides and as I
want, when I change it about to secure a fresh, sharp edge.
[Illustration: PLATE VIII.]
I begin by firmly placing the wood, etc., as before, and working the
sandpaper (over the cork), firmly pressed in the first stage,
against the rough, raised edge, all around the outline, but being
most careful not to wear what is left of it away, which must be left
intact as far as possible to the end, when it is made to assume that
beautiful sort of curled, yet sharp edge so much admired. Then, more
towards the upper ridges, over and over, backwards and forwards,
having always the careful arching and model of elegance before me,
until I arrive at that growing stage of the work as shown in fig. 8,
which I proceed to damp well all over with a wet sponge, the
surface, as you may see, as I hold it well to the light, being again
abominably rough, and not at all _now_ like fig. 8, as the moisture
has raised the fibres in all directions.
But before I go farther into this interesting, consequently
absorbing process, I must answer some question such as "but why use
sandpaper? it is decried by most experts, and utterly ignored by
some writers as having no status among the tools used by
professional makers of note, and was not believed to have had a
place among those of the Ancients."
Then so much the worse for the work of the makers of to-day and for
those of yesterday. But who says the ancients did not use it, or
crocodile skin, or a cloth made in Venice, and somewhat after our
emery cloth? or variously shaped files of different cuttings? At a
time when sculpture and very chaste and highly finished woodwork
would employ it largely, does any one mean to assert that the
violin, not by any means held in the estimation it is to-day, must
receive the dignity of small plane and scraper only, and such a
useful article treated with contempt _because_ it was what it was?
If they do, or any of you do, I should much like to devote an hour
privately to any such, when it should be my business to combat such
a sentiment, more especially as some writers seem to hint that when
sandpaper is used, its scratchy effects can be traced, as I could
bring many of my finest efforts to prove the contrary.
My reason for not using small planes for modelling is, that in the
first cutting you cannot possibly go over the delicate groove
without endangering the surface level--that is to say, if you tear
any part in going against the grain (or sometimes with it) and go
_deeper_ than you should, would you not at once ruin your even flow
of curves as by early arrangement you had set out? your only escape
from fiasco being sinking to a lower surface and sacrificing your
original conception of true proportion.
Therefore, I stand to the system adopted at the outset of my career,
and resume. The wetted surface being thoroughly dry (not apparently
so, but really free from any feeling whatever of dampness) I take
the next degree towards fineness of sandpaper (or if you like the
term "glass-paper" better, by all means adopt it), and I do
precisely as formerly, again and again, until six courses have been
carefully gone over. Then I go over the same ground six times more,
using scrapers 4, 20, 26, 62 alternately, and continually holding up
the surfaces to the light as they develop their curves and archings
truer and more true, as I scrape here and there with great patience
to bring all this about. At this point I suppose you will think the
modelling and surface finishing is finally accomplished, and that
the interesting passages on thicknesses are about to be written. But
it is not so, for the final surface of silk-like smoothness is four
or five coats farther from me yet. So I attack with No. 1 sandpaper
the surface once more, mostly cross-wise this and all following
stages, putting fair pressure and with both hands on the rubber, so
that I get sure curves and even surface all over; and then I take
No. 0 paper, working well many times round and round by the outline
and all over and lengthwise among the curves until I finish this
exacting piece of business and fine art, as shown in fig. 9.
[Illustration: PLATE IX.]
And the height of the wood at the middle bout is five-eighths of an
inch; at the upper seven-sixteenths of an inch; at the lower, bare
half-inch more or less, a fine eye being necessary to discriminate
to a hair.