An immaculately preserved violin by Ferdinand Gagliano

Besides its main constituents, this violin is particularly remarkable for the elements that were usually modified or replaced during the 19th and 20th centuries. The neck junction hasn’t been touched. Even the fingerboard seems to be original. This means we can get rare insights about the original neck angle and elevation of the fingerboard. The lower saddle is authentic and still covered with original varnish. This gives us key information for evaluating the original angle of the strings over the bridge. It also indicates that the violin was varnished after the saddle was set.

Inside the violin, every surface seems untouched. Its finish is very clean with few tool marks. This means we can study Ferdinando’s working techniques and a possible wood treatment can be analysed. The bass bar, blocks, linings and label are completely original and unmodified. There are just three small spruce cleats glued on the upper part of the belly’s middle joint. Two old cleats are glued to reinforce the lower wings of the f-holes. On the bass side, there are no cracks at all, indicating that these were added as a preventative measure. They look very old and it’s possible they were added by the maker himself. It’s striking that this preventative action was carried out at such an early stage.

Returning to the outside, the only modifications we can detect consist of a very old reshaping of the neck, which has been partially re-varnished, the re-gluing of the finger board and the replacement of a small portion of the outer edge of the belly. Some later small rasp marks are detectable on the upper side of the neck above the upper saddle; the (probably) original finger board has at some point been displaced to increase its elevation and been re-centred. Otherwise, the violin bears interesting and pure traces of wear caused by the playing and adjusting of the instrument at an early stage. These provide interesting insights into the behaviour of violinists and violinmaker treatments at the end of the 18th century.

Does this violin challenge any of our current ideas about Neapolitan violins from the 18th century, or about Gagliano instruments?

One fascinating feature is the presence of spiral bushings in the peg holes and the end-pin hole. As the original varnish partially still covers the surface of the wooden bushing, and no signs of later intervention are visible, these bushings must have been made by the maker before the instrument was varnished. We have already detected original spiral bushing on a well preserved Gabrielli violin from 1769. At this point we can only speculate whether they have added wood shaving into the holes to reduce their diameter, to reinforce the pegbox, or to allow for a better running of the pegs. I believe that in order to conserve this quite unique proof of spiral bushing, one should avoid putting new pegs on the violin.

Another interesting feature is the presence of two tiny holes on the belly due to the presence of two locating pins near to the lower saddle and the base of the neck. As the pins are missing, one would conclude that these were removed or added during a later intervention on the violin. However, on inspection under the microscope, or with UV light, we see that these holes are filled with original varnish. This indicates that Fernando may have used pins temporarily to fix the belly on the ribs, but removed them before, or during the closing of the violin. On less pure instruments one can’t be sure that the holes are covered with original varnish. As usual with Ferdinando’s work, there are no pins on the back.

Then there are our ideas about varnish. On this violin, the varnish is much thicker than is usually observed. It’s probably a false conception, when looking at old varnish, that it indicates its original thickness. This violin suggests, rather, that constant polishing of varnishes, letting them first swell, then shrink, decreases their thickness. Besides this, the colour appears more orange then we are used to observe. In particular, those areas which have not been so exposed to light are more intensely coloured. This indicates that Neapolitan varnish may contain colouring agents that are not stable to light exposure. It challenges the view that Neapolitan varnishes were golden-yellow and not intentionally coloured.

One of the greatest limitations in investigating any ancient artefact is the contamination and degradations that most of them have suffered over time due to constant playing or, in most cases, invasive restorations. This is why this miraculous violin represents a rare opportunity to obtain some crucial information. Did, for example, the Neapolitan makers treat the internal surfaces of their instruments? For the most part such a simple question cannot be answered with certitude because we are not sure if it may have been contaminated by a previous restoration. A single drop of tap water already represents a contamination. If this is not the case however electron-microscopy, or different spectroscopic or chromatographic analyses on micro samples can provide very precise information. Same goes for the varnish. If a violin has received a french polish you can’t get any reliable knowledge about the original surface.

Can you tell us a bit about your own journey to becoming a violin restorer and expert?

After studying the cello, I was trained as a violin maker at the violin-making school of Mittenwald and worked for some years as a restorer at the workshops of Jean-Frédéric Schmitt in Lyon and Hieronymus Köstler in Stuttgart. In 2006, I decided to study Conservation and Restoration of Easel Paintings and Polychrome Wooden Sculptures at the Stuttgart State Academy of Art. I graduated in 2010 with a Master’s thesis on the oldest surviving lute varnishes. Since then, my research projects led me to work with several European institutions concerning the study of historical varnishes.