Stradivarius: Five Violins, One Cello and a Genius (review)

Toby Faber's maiden book has much in common with Nicholas Delbanco's The Countess of Stanlein Restored (London, 2001; reviewed in Music & Letters, 83 (2002), 511), which recounts the chequered history of a celebrated cello by Antonio Stradivari and its role in the life of its current owner, Bernard Greenhouse (former cellist of the Beaux Arts Trio). Using the same luthier as his subject, Faber ventures further than Delbanco both in exploring Stradivari's techniques and methods of instrument making in the context of lutherie before and during the maker's career and in attempting to account for his continuing supremacy. In so doing, he traces the histories, ownerships, and 'playing careers' of six Stradivari instruments from their construction as far as possible to the present.

Faber's first chapter introduces the five violins—the 'Messiah' (1716), the 'Viotti–Marie Hall' (1709), the 'Khevenhüller' (1733), the 'Paganini' (c.1680), and the 'Lipinski' (1715)—and the cello (the 'Davidov', 1712) that serve as the central characters of his book. Although few of these instruments are generally considered among Stradivari's most celebrated, their individual 'careers' abound in fascinating stories, some of which have been received with suspicion. Thus, Faber has plenty of interesting material to comment on, and he is quick to supplement it with references to, for example, relevant articles in the magazine The Strad, significant dealers such as the Hills, examples of violin fraud, and even a variety of asides into the world of early recordings. He relates, for instance, the controversy that has long surrounded the 'Messiah' violin, reputedly from the 'golden period' of Stradivari's creativity. He notes the incongruity of its pristine 'new' appearance and records the fact that it served as the model for the construction of many imitations, not least by one of its owners, Jean-Baptiste Vuillaume. Other infamous instrument collectors such as Count Cozio di Salabue and Luigi Tarisio also join the cast (Cozio's significance bolstered by fairly new evidence from his notebooks), and the recent debate about the dating of the wood used in the 'Messiah's' construction opens the argument to the world of forgery and deception, the views of contemporary experts such as Stewart Pollens, and the counter-claims, through dendrochronological study, of John Topham, with Derek McCormick and Peter Klein.

All kinds of fascinating details emerge about the origins of violin craftsmanship (taking in Jakob Stainer and the Amati dynasty), the development of Stradivari's particular genius (with additional interest provided by the fairly recent discovery of his will), and the general history of the development of stringed instruments. Stradivari's relative neglect of viola making is noted, and the various violin and cello 'models', experimental outlines and construction processes that evolved before and during the Italian maker's career are succinctly surveyed, including the radical redesign and standardization of the cello. The necessary late eighteenth-century modifications made to the neck and the internal fittings of stringed instruments are also explained, along with changed approaches to bow construction and to accessories such as the violin chin rest and the cello endpin. Faber's narrative about the history of the six instruments under his microscope traces the various periods and circumstances of Stradivari's life in which they originated and combines fact and anecdote, making numerous interesting historical connections between those who played these instruments and other significant musical personalities. The Beethoven–Böhm link with the 'Khevenhüller' violin is especially interesting; so, too, is the history of the quartet of Strads owned latterly by Paganini, not least because this virtuoso was inextricably associated throughout his career with a 1742 Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesù violin (the famous 'Cannon').

This is not a work of great scholarship and was probably never intended as such. It begins in quasi-romantic fashion, almost as if a novel, but soon settles down into an easy and absorbing read, capturing the enthusiasms of performers for playing Stradivari's instruments and...