THE HEIR APPARENT

Born almost 40 years after Stradivari, Carlo Bergonzi completed several of the master maker’s instruments after his demise. Andrea Zanrè shows how his ‘Baron Knoop’ violin of 1735 displays an unmistakable personality despite the influence of Stradivari and his contemporaries, while on page 28 Rudolf Hopfner explains what the latest micro-CT scans can tell us

‘BARON KNOOP’ AND ‘PLEETH’ PHOTOS JAN RÖHRMANN . LABEL PHOTO COURTESY ANDREA ZANRÈ

Antonio Stradivari’s legacy bestrides the violin making world like a colossus, and makers the world over must sometimes have felt as if their efforts can never match the work of the master. His sons Francesco and Omobono would have felt it most strongly, if only for the few years that separated their deaths from their father’s. Long after Antonio’s demise, his shadow continued to menace some of the great Italian luthiers who nevertheless deserve our greatest admiration. Among these, Carlo Bergonzi has a special place in the pantheon, both for the refinement of his work and his proximity to that menace.

The instrument shown here, the ‘Baron Knoop’ Bergonzi, still retains its original label of 1735. However, a second instrument he made during the same time period, or perhaps a few years earlier, a violin currently known as the ‘Kreisler’, bears a Stradivari label from 1716. It was displayed at the 2010 Bergonzi exhibition in Cremona, and its catalogue entry states that the third and fourth digits of that label are likely in the handwriting of its former owner, Count Cozio di Salabue. This is one of several cases that remind us of the immeasurable effects of the Stradivari legacy: Cozio must have known that his Bergonzi was a Bergonzi, and admired him as a maker, but despite this he had its corners cut to a length more consistent with Stradivari’s style, and erased its true authorship.

Carlo Bergonzi was born in 1683 and his father was a baker. Similarly to Stradivari, who was almost 40 years his senior, Bergonzi’s background thus had no relation with his future trade. Most experts and historians currently think that his first contacts with violin making might have happened through the acquaintance of the most active son of Francesco Rugeri, Vincenzo. This creates a second important connection with Stradivari’s background, which appears to have been closely related to the first generation of the Rugeris. Most scholars today believe more in the Rugeri–Stradivari connection than in Stradivari’s apprenticeship in Amati’s workshop.

The original 1735 label of the ‘Baron Knoop’ Bergonzi in a photo taken in the Wurlitzer shop in 1970, when its date was more clearly legible than it is nowadays

In Cremona, the violin making tradition had been established well over a century earlier by the Amati family, joined by the Guarneris. However, it could be that this ‘official’ tradition was suffering increasing competition from the outsiders – Rugeri, Stradivari, Bergonzi, all connected – which would eventually prevail. The Rugeris were basically very fine imitators of the Amatis’ style, and perhaps they were more prone to welcoming strangers who wanted to learn the craft from scratch.

The type of training provided within the two currents of Cremonese violin making of this period was also quite different, considering that most of Nicolò Amati’s apprentices would often be literally admitted into the household to live with their master, usually from a young age. The second group, on the other hand, was more used to ‘freelancing’, which had consequences in their way of approaching the craft. Stradivari was about 22 years old when his first labelled work appeared, but he had to experiment for an additional 15 years before he was able to reproduce Nicolò Amati’s ‘Grand Pattern’ violins accurately.

Stradivari had overwhelming success relatively early in his career, which may have influenced his experimental approach to violin making. By contrast, Carlo Bergonzi’s early work met with more modest fortune, and his early style consequently looks a bit more tentative. The Cremonese archives contain just feeble traces of his actual relationship with Vincenzo Rugeri, and we can only guess what Bergonzi’s precise role in that workshop was. After Rugeri died in 1719, Bergonzi was probably left with but a few choices. He could have started an independent career, but the scarcity of his instruments with original labels pre-1730 seems to suggest he only did this after turning 40 or even 45 years of age.

He could have joined with the ‘official’ tradition, then represented by Giuseppe Guarneri ‘filius Andreae’, who has been long considered his actual teacher because of exterior similarities in their styles – but Giuseppe himself during that time was striving to sustain his own family. Lastly, he could have turned to Cremona’s most successful maker, Antonio Stradivari, although by that time Francesco and Omobono were highly experienced, and the young Giovanni Battista Martino had grown enough to provide help as well. Perhaps it is not by chance that Bergonzi’s cooperation in Stradivari’s workshop becomes especially noticeable after Giovanni Battista Martino’s untimely death in 1727, when Antonio could no longer rely on a steady line of succession.

Bergonzi’s hand shows itself most clearly in the demanding task of making cellos, such as the c.1727 ‘Bein, Fruh’ and the 1732 ‘Pleeth’.

Front view of the scroll from the c.1732 ‘Pleeth’ Stradivari cello, showing the hand of Carlo Bergonzi

PHOTOS JAN RÖHRMANN

For these reasons, Bergonzi’s career remains quite elusive up to the flourishing of his so-called ‘golden period’, which basically occupies the whole decade of the 1730s. Christopher Reuning and the group of experts who cooperated on the 2010 catalogue illustrated in detail the initial attempts by which Carlo Bergonzi acquired a real mastery that, in truth, never stopped evolving.

By 1735, the year the ‘Baron Knoop’ was made, his style had crystallised into what we may consider an archetype.

Although Bergonzi probably never reached the (rarely experienced) status of a wealthy luthier, he still used the bestquality maple ever seen: the one-piece back of the ‘Baron Knoop’ is one of a series of violins made with material of a stunning wide, deep flame. We also encounter this wood in, for instance, the 1732–34 ‘Earl of Falmouth’, the 1733 ‘Salabue, Martzy’ and several later instruments. Top-quality imported maple and fine-grained Alpine spruce are no exception for the most wellheeled Cremonese makers of the 17th and 18th centuries, but they are notable for a luthier of Bergonzi’s lower status.

Bergonzi’s later work was also influenced by the tools and forms he had at his disposal from the Stradivari workshop. We know he had access to these from 1746, when he was appointed to complete a number of Stradivari instruments left unfinished. The only viola known to have been made by Bergonzi is probably made on Stradivari’s ‘CV’ mould, while his two cellos are based on the so-called ‘B picola’. When Carlo died just one year later, in 1747, his son Michelangelo was confronted with the same task, and it is clear that he, too, would turn to the patterns left behind by the great master.

By this time, the violin maker’s vocabulary was quite well formed via a dozen violin moulds designed in Stradivari’s workshop over several decades. However, there might be tangible evidence that Bergonzi was willing to contribute to that vocabulary with his own ideas. Two moulds at the Museo del Violino in Cremona (catalogued as MS1060 and 1065), with old inscriptions attributing them to the Bergonzi family, share several common physical features: they are slightly thinner (11–12mm) than Stradivari’s, have smaller recesses for the topand bottom-blocks, and display myriad marks left by the use of a round tool on their faces.

In the exhibition catalogue, Reuning differentiates between MS1060 and MS1065, proposing which of the two moulds might have been used by Carlo Bergonzi for several of his violins. As this issue went to press a specific study about the topic was being conducted, but here we can take a closer look at the proportions of the two moulds.

Detail of the ‘Baron Knoop’ back, with its outstanding maple choice. The picture also shows the narrow overhang that is typical for Bergonzi violins, and the finely preserved long corners. The fluting of the edge is quite deep.

By this time, Stradivari had more or less steadily adopted three of his moulds as the basis for most of his violins: ‘PG’ (MS21), ‘P’ (MS44) and ‘G’ (MS49). Excluding the block templates for simplicity’s sake, Bergonzi’s moulds are shorter than ‘P’, the shortest of those three forms, and in fact his instruments rarely exceed a back length of 353mm.

Additionally, whereas Stradivari had progressively selected the patterns that were wider in relation to their lengths, Bergonzi preferred a more slender model. For instance, the upper, C-bout and lower widths of the ‘Baron Knoop’ are c.163, 106 and 201mm, while a typical and equally well-preserved Stradivari made on the ‘P’ mould would be c.167, 109 and 206mm.

When comparing plate measurements, we should also consider that Bergonzi’s overhang tends to be noticeably smaller than Stradivari’s. That said, the biggest differences can be located in the upper and lower bouts, and this allows us to draw a quick comparison with Guarneri ‘del Gesù’, who also generally made violins with a short body length and narrow upper and lower bouts, but with good-sized C-bouts.

A second analogy with ‘del Gesù’ becomes apparent when comparing the bout lengths of these three makers. If we conventionally delimit the C-bout length by the lines that connect the corner-block recesses on Stradivari’s moulds, then the C-bouts on the ‘P’ mould account for slightly more than a quarter (25 per cent) of its total length. Bergonzi violins range mostly between 26 and 27 per cent, apparently a negligible difference, but one that can easily translate into more than 6mm on the actual violin, a gargantuan gap in its overall design. Of course, we cannot effectively take the same type of measurements for ‘del Gesù’ as his moulds have not survived, but a similarly long C-bout can be observed in his violins as well.

Visually, we can express this in other terms. In Bergonzi violins, the C-bouts tend to be long and straight; the fact that the upper bouts are short and remain very ample below their widest part makes their pattern look a bit like an umbrella over its handle, or a mushroom over its stem. Compared to the sensually curved lines of an Amati or Stradivari, this results in a sober, synthesised and quite contemporary concept. So looking back at the whole process, it would almost seem that Stradivari’s tendency to lengthen and enlarge his violin bodies opulently was more an exception than the rule in Cremona during the 1730s.

Stradivari and Amati Grand Pattern violins were admired by several violin connoisseurs: Cozio in the first place, followed in the rest of Europe by Jean-Baptiste Vuillaume, the Hills and many others, which gave room to the reproduction of a great number of instruments of generous dimensions in France, Germany and England. As far as Italy is concerned, starting right from Stradivari’s contemporaries, most makers ignored these preferences and continued to make their smaller, more agile violins.

Of course, Bergonzi’s patterns show a specific tonal intuition, as do other design features he preferred. His ribs, for instance, are usually higher than Stradivari’s and have no or very little taper from the bottom to the top; his f-holes are usually placed lower on his bodies than in most Cremonese instruments, although the ‘Baron Knoop’ doesn’t show this feature as its stop length is just 194mm. Cozio reports his necks were also longer, so we can surmise that the total string length was increased in a way that resulted in additional string tension.

The f-holes on the ‘Baron Knoop’ embody Bergonzi’s ability to combine the influences of Stradivari and ‘del Gesù’ into his own model: they are similar to the latter for their longer and wider stems, while recalling the former for the unrivalled skill and precision by which they were cut. Their wide wings tend to spread the generously sized eyes far away from the stem, thus delimiting an ample chest under the bridge area and approaching boldly the purfling and the C-bout in their lower section. Similarly to his body pattern, they imply a masculine, self-assured taste which never gave way to the carelessness that would increasingly become tempting for ‘del Gesù’.

If architecture can be properly defined as ‘beauty at work’, then Bergonzi violins are snappy, efficient creations, extremely refined without any frills. Visually the ‘Baron Knoop’ arching is totally consistent with this approach, and structurally it provides the right degree of suppleness to achieve a fine Cremonese sound.

The highest point on its top arching reaches just 14mm. The back has a virtually identical maximum height, at 14.2mm. An arching study which will soon be completed indicates that, among a group of 16 Stradivari violins measured with the same technique, the average arching height is 16.5 and 15.4mm for tops and backs respectively. It is also interesting to note that in Stradivari’s work there is no clear tendency to evolve from a high to a low arching, and actually violin experts know that the master produced some of his fuller instruments towards the end of his career. At the widest part of the upper bouts, the ‘Baron Knoop’ arching has an elevation of 10.5 and 8mm, for top and back respectively; the opposite measurements at the widest part of the lower bout are 11.6 and 8.8.

Bergonzi chose to compensate for the compliant architecture of his plates by leaving healthy thicknesses on the ‘Baron Knoop’ top: the average thickness is close to 3mm, with a range going from 3.3 to 2.2. The latter figure could be considered the average on many Stradivaris. The ‘Baron Knoop’ back doesn’t really show a corresponding tendency, and it is interesting to note that the thicker part of the C-bouts is limited to their centre – it doesn’t really extend to the edges, in a way that somehow recalls the Amati thickness distributions.

The way Bergonzi used his tools and the minute details of his style are the signs of his unmistakable personality, which emerges as clearly from his work as it hides in the ‘behind-the-scenes’ nature of his life’s path. Since no one has ever apparently tried to pass off the ‘Baron Knoop’ as a Stradivari, its corners are still the way Bergonzi decided they should be: long and substantial, with wide radiuses leading from the C-bouts to their tips. The purfling is precisely inlaid at a wide distance from the edge, leaving a long section of the corners protruding beyond the bee-stings, which point inwards towards the C-bout. The purfling itself is deeply stained and its ‘white’ part appears to be formed by a single strip of softwood, probably poplar, whereas the ‘white’ of many other Bergonzis is composed of two strips glued together. The original button is quite tall and not very wide, ending with two accentuated nicks on both sides.

Bergonzi’s personality stands out overwhelmingly in his heads; this makes it easier to detect his hand in the Stradivari cellos to which he contributed. The profile of the pegbox is curved in a way that is perhaps more influenced by Guarneri ‘del Gesù’ than by Stradivari himself; in contrast with both of these makers, on the ‘Baron Knoop’ the throat isn’t very open and ends quickly at the level of the second turn of the scroll. Above the pegbox, the well-rounded volute is well dimensioned and ends in a substantial eye; some tool marks remain visible, including a few dots that could be the result of a tracing device. Seen from the front, the volute is less extreme if compared to what is typical for this maker, i.e. the long, perfectly sculpted ears protruding from a very narrow second turn. On the ‘Baron Knoop’ the proportions are more classical and one doesn’t get that impression of a perfectly cylindrical dowel sticking out from both sides of the volute. The scroll is admirably sculpted, although with a slightly more laid-back attitude than the maniacal precision that can be detected in some of his earlier instruments; in later years, the hand of Michelangelo will occasionally appear with its contrasting and spontaneous style, which almost owes more to ‘del Gesù’ than it does to his father.

The left f-hole of the ‘Baron Knoop’ shows a selfconfident, refined execution; the wing is fluted using a very flat gouge; the lower eye is quite close to the purfling, whose ‘white’ is formed by a single strip of softwood, probably poplar

JAN RÖHRMANN

CT scans of rib garlands taken from (a) a Stradivari violin made using the ‘P’ mould, (b) the ‘Kreisler’ Bergonzi and (c) the ‘Baron Knoop’ Bergonzi

SCROLL PHOTOS JAN RÖHRMANN. CT SCANS UNIVERSITY OF APPLIED SCIENCES UPPER AUSTRIA, RESEARCH GROUP COMPUTED TOMOGRAPHY

Bergonzi’s varnish has a deep, subdued fire which doesn’t try to emulate the visual effects obtained by his competitors: perhaps of a softer consistency and richer in oil than either Stradivari’s or Guarneri’s formulas, Bergonzi’s seems to adhere very closely to the wood, without a noticeable sealing layer placed in between. Additionally, it doesn’t show much of the abrupt chipping that is more often seen in contemporary instruments, allowing us to presume that the edges of the wear pattern were rapidly softened.

Front view of the volutes from (a) the ‘Baron Knoop’ and (b) the ‘Kreisler’Bergonzis. The latter shows a style which is more typical for this maker: the central part is quite wide, the second turn extremely narrow, and the eyes protrude strongly with their perfectly cylindrical shape.

In terms of the interior work, Bergonzi’s violins differ slightly from other Cremonese instruments: the linings are narrower and inserted into the C-bouts with a pointed shape. On the other hand, similarly to Stradivari, the interior construction is entirely made of willow, and the absence of a dorsal pin seems to suggest a different method from the one used in the Amati– Guarneri tradition. Bergonzis do have locating pins on the plates, usually close to the purfling and with a squarish rather than a round section.

We like to think of the man behind this violin as a modest, determined artist, whose work is exceedingly refined and rare: not more than 50 instruments in total are known. Had he lived into his nineties like Stradivari, the history of Cremonese violin making would probably have been quite different, as there would have been no gap in the transition between his generation of makers and the one after. And yet, dying in 1747, Carlo Bergonzi did survive Stradivari for exactly a decade, the last few years of which were spent in his former employer’s workshop, finishing the instruments he had left behind. There’s a little irony of fate there, as Bergonzi, in his equanimous way, appears to be stating with his own work that he definitely did not mean to make Stradivaris.

A new monograph about the ‘Baron Knoop’ and ‘Kreisler’ Bergonzi violins will appear in the winter of 2021 published by Scrollavezza & Zanrè in cooperation with Jan Röhrmann. The new volume will contain essays by Peter Biddulph, Carlo Chiesa, John Dilworth, Andrew Fairfax, Rudolf Hopfner, Marco Malagodi, Peter Ratcliff, Christopher Reuning, Aard Van Kollenburg and Andrea Zanrè.