From the ARCHIVE

Dr T. Lamb Phipson recalls the tale of an impromptu violin auction on the streets of Rome, where a bidding war ended with a happy twist

In the late autumn of 1856 my friend Sgambatoldi of Milan was in Rome. His attention was called by a public crier, or banditore, to a pile of old clothes and dusty furniture spread out on the pavement for sale. It was the house of a poor artist, a painter who had lately died of consumption, leaving a young widow and three small children. The mother’s face was calm, and sadness gleamed from her large dark eyes. After a while, a few passers stopped, looked at the miserable articles exposed for sale, and walked on.

Then came by a stout man with keen, brilliant eyes. He stopped also. He had seen an old dilapidated violin lying on one of the chairs. There were no strings, nor bridge nor tail-piece, nor bow nor case. By-and-bye my friend Sgambatoldi saw, approaching among the others, two French gentlemen who were at the same hotel as himself. They were Count Sabloneux and Monsieur Mortier, a deputy.

“Stop!” said Sabloneux, “there is a violin; it might be good for my cabinet. This is just the place to find some valuable old instrument.” His sole thoughts were centred, at present, on the violin which some one in the crowd had called a Guarneri. It was then being looked at by a connoisseur of musical instruments named Papucci, who had overheard the conversation between the Frenchmen, for he understood and spoke French fluently.

“Fifty lire!” cried Papucci. “One hundred!” roared forth Count Sabloneux. “Six hundred!” shouted Papucci almost immediately. A wrathful expression flashed across the ruddy features of the Frenchman, but he seemed determined to get the instrument. “One thousand lire,” he shouted, after a pause of a few moments. This was equal to about forty pounds in English money. Every one appeared to be struck dumb by so magnificent a bid.

“Then it is yours, Signor,” said the banditore, turning to Count Sabloneux, who at once proceeded to pay for his purchase, and turning to his companion, said “That is really cheap for a Guarneri violin! You are a dealer, are you not?” addressing himself to Papucci.

“Yes,” replied the latter, “at Milan, but not here.” “I thought so, from your active bidding,” added the Frenchman, “and I have no doubt you consider this a very fine Guarneri.”

“Oh, dear no!” replied Papucci, smiling; “it is not a Guarneri at all; it is a very common violin indeed, and considerably cracked also; it may have cost, originally, about thirty francs.”

“Then why, in the name of Heaven, did you bid so warmly for it!” “For the sake of the poor widow and her three children,” replied Papucci, with great calmness; “for her sake I would have bought it at any of the bids I made.”

AGA TOMASZEK